


The Belief in Happy Endings

by KarenaWilliams (ryvrr)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Reader-Insert, abductions, smut in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:32:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4377314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryvrr/pseuds/KarenaWilliams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who do you believe in so blindly that you would think he would find you in such a place to save you from this disaster?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> This is, gosh. So old at this point. But it's one of the few stories I love to itty bitty pieces because it got me back into writing fanfiction. Which means I refuse to let it die and not be posted somewhere for archiving purposes! I'll post this first chapter-- which I've edited to be a bit better to read-- and will continue to post the rest of them as I edit them.
> 
> So, while this story is very old and a lot of people have probably read it up til the end and know what happens, I'm going to be editing it to try and make it better quality! **This first chapter is actually the original first 3 chapters put together and written a bit better.**
> 
> I hope you all enjoy ~~the angst~~. You can find me on my [fanfiction tumblr](http://karenawilliams-sucka.tumblr.com) if you ever wanna chat or whatever!

Upon opening your eyes the first thought to drift through your mind is how _thirsty_ you are. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth and, with an effort, you manage to pull it away. There's a faint buzzing from around you-- though for a moment you had thought it was inside of your head-- but you can't make yourself open your eyes to look around. Your head aches around the temples and a small groan escapes your chapped lips. The rest of the pain in your body is catching up to you now. It feels like you were run over by a bus, though you can't seem to recall if that's really the case. Everything in your mind is fuzzy, like it's covered by a blanket and, no matter how hard you try, you can't pull the memories out from underneath the fabric.

Your right arm hurts the worst of all-- even your rib cage, which hurts bad enough on its own. You must have a few cracked ribs, maybe even a broken one. You grit your teeth against the pain, hissing your breath out from your clenched jaw. You try to push the pain away and focus on something else, something more important than the pains and aches of your own body. What had happened to you? What had made you hurt this bad that you were now in a hospital? Because surely that was where you were right now, laying frozen in a hospital bed, a gown upon your body and cool air brushing against your sweat dampened skin. The fan above your head is oscillating slowly and you open your eyes blearily to look up at it. It helps to watch it lazily spin above you, helps your brain to focus on something other than the pain throbbing with the beat of your heart. 

There are voices out in the hall. The closed door does a lot to block them out, but you can still hear the low murmur of them from where you lay. One rises with emotion before lowering again, another murmuring in response to the first. You furrow your brows, deciding you want to know what's being said, and close your eyes to better focus. 

"Reid, you have to understand what the doctor is trying to say," says a deep voice, different from the first two you'd been hearing before. Something flutters in your mind, an inkling of knowing, but you can't quite place from where. "He just means that, after what's happened to her, when she opens her eyes finally she might not remember anything." 

"But how... no, I know how. Just... how long do you think it'll last? If it does happen." 

"There's no way to tell, Dr. Reid," answers a different voice, one that your mind doesn't recognize at all. You don't pay much attention to it though, your mind zeroing in on the _Dr. Reid_ , as he was addressed as. Your heart beats a little faster as your thoughts swirl in your head, a warm flush suffusing your face and warming your cheeks. Something about that man's voice has your heart swelling with some foreign emotion that you can't identify. What is this? Who is he? You know that they're talking about you, that this man means something to you, but your mind won't move fast enough for you to figure it out. 

You feel fatigued and zapped of energy again. All of this thinking, all of this confusion, is wearing upon you. Annoyance flashes briefly in your mind over the weakness. What had happened to you? What could have possibly come about to make you forget even the most important things in your life? Closing your eyes, you will yourself to remember. 

Remember, remember, remember what had happened. 

* * *

A shout pierces the silence. Your name, you think, though you're no longer what that even is. Turning around, you had raised a hand to wave to whoever had called out to you. It was a man-- a man without a face, which is a bit startling and jarring-- and no matter how hard you tried to remember the contours of that face, it just won't come into focus. He had placed a hand on your shoulder and patted you, a friendly move, and you had nodded your head in response to something being said. There's a happy smile on your face and you feel totally at ease, cheerful and friendly.

_"Congratulations,"_ he had said to you, possibly in response to something you had told him. Actually, the more you linger on that, the more clear it becomes that you **had** said something, though it doesn't come to you what that was. The entire memory is foggy and hard to cling to. The voice itself is all messed up, not really a human voice at all but a tattered memory that doesn't solidify itself completely. It wasn't right. That wasn't his voice, you're sure of it, but nothing seems to be coming forward to clear it completely. This was all you could recall. 

Your memory was so messed up that it had distorted everything. You couldn't even be sure exactly where you stood on the ground, or who was clapping a hand to your shoulder and congratulating you. The voice was all messed up and they had no face. Your heart began to pick up its beat, but you shoved tense the emotions aside. It was already hard enough to capture this memory, you didn't want to lose it too soon. Something was holding you back, trying to keep you from remembering who this man was. Perhaps your mind was attempting to protect you, or maybe something had happened that had distorted it against its will. The man raises a hand and points to something over your shoulder and you turn to peer in that direction. Confusion flits through you, distant and muffled, and it's confusion that you're remembering from the moment this memory had taken place. 

_"... want to... for a little,"_ the man speaks, but it's not connecting and the words fade in and out of hearing. _"I'll get you... he realizes."_

You can only hear a few of the things that are being said. Out of nowhere, everything fades to black, as if a curtain had been dropped in front of your eyes. No sounds reach you for awhile and you drift in the memory, more confused than anxious. You had been walking with the man before everything had vanished. Something had happened that had blacked you out, but what could it have possibly been? 

When your eyes open again-- still within the memory, still processing the few little things you can recall-- you're in a dark hallway. This time it's an out of body experience, watching yourself as you wake and place your hands upon the grimy wooden floor. It takes a moment to push yourself into a seated position, brows furrowed in pain and movements sluggish. Your eyes are glazed over and out of focus, as if you're still not thinking quite right, as if something is attempting to pull you back down into the void. _Drugged,_ you realize as you force yourself steadily forward in the memory. You're drugged. There's something coursing through your system to keep you from being clear headed and able to process what's going on. There's blood caked to your face on one side from a wound on your head, and your eyes are hard to open because of the dried blood over your lashes. You attempt to get to your feet, but you stagger and over balance, falling down once more. Fear pumps in your veins-- though you're watching this from an outside perspective, you can still feel the emotions as they course through you-- and you manage to call out a muffled name you no longer remember. 

A sound comes from outside of the hallway. You freeze and stare down the hallway with huge eyes, face pale probably because of the blood loss and the fear. The  (e/c) is still dull, still confused, but there's starting to be focus coming back to them now. Perhaps whatever you'd been drugged with is wearing off? The adrenaline is making your blood pump faster, and that might be aiding in your faculties coming back slowly. A footstep, like a boot stepping hard on a wooden floor, and you try to push yourself backwards, scooting your butt across the dusty floor. You don't even try to get to your feet, because your legs are still shaking hard enough that you would have fallen again anyway. 

_"They'll come,"_ you whisper to yourself, like a prayer that falls from your numb lips and wavers in the air around you. Your eyes go back to the end of the hall, watching and waiting for whoever is coming closer. The door is closed at the end of the hall, but there is still sound seeping through it, heavy footfalls of someone moving about an unseen room. _"He'll find me. He will. He won't stop until he does."_

Who? You wonder to yourself as you watch the scene unfold. Who will find you? Who's coming for you? There's such devotion in your tone-- so much love-- but it doesn't ring any bells inside your head now. Who are you talking about like that? Who do you believe in so blindly-- so fiercely-- that you would think he would find you in such a place? Who would come to save you from this impending disaster? 

All goes black again. 

* * *

"Are you awake?" comes a voice to your left. It's soft and definitely feminine, and it causes you to snap your eyes open once more. A blonde woman is peering down at you with worry in her eyes, and a relieved smile breaks over her lips as her eyes clash with your own. "Oh, you are!" She reaches out and grabs your hand, though she lets go a moment later when you flinch from the contact. Your hand goes back to laying on the bed next to your body, fingers clenching the fabric of the blanket draped over your body. "Reid will be so happy to hear that," she tells you, as if you should know who Reid is, as if you should be following this conversation.

"Reid?" The name brushes something inside of you, but it doesn't rouse any memories other than an awkward wave. What a strange thing to remember, what a specific little thing to be brought forth because of the utterance of a name. You can't see the body of the person, but you can see the outline of someone as a hand raises to wave awkwardly in hello. 

"Your husband," the blonde woman answers and she furrows her brows in worry. "The man you've been married to for the last year now." 

"Married?" You don't sound panicked. You don't feel panicked, actually. You stare at her with your own furrowed brows and curiosity in your gaze. You're still a bit foggy in the head and nothing feels real yet, nothing feels as if it's really happening. "What's my name?" It seems silly to learn about your husband before you even know anything about yourself. You don't even know your own name, for crying out loud! 

"You," the woman starts and then aborts the sentence for a moment. She stares helplessly at you, as if wishing for you to laugh it off and tell her you'd been joking. You wish you could say you were kidding around. There's starting to be a sick little twist in your stomach that's upsetting you, a hint that you should know something but you don't. There's just an empty void inside of your head right now. Nothing is clicking or slotting into place. "You don't remember. Oh God, I should get the others." She jumps to her feet before you can call her back. Walking quickly to the door, she opens it and sticks her head out into the hall. You can't hear what she's saying because she's mostly out in the hall, but she yells something and snaps you back to the present, out of your own thoughts about yourself and what you don't know. You think it's names she's calling, names that you don't recognize. "She's awake," she tells someone who's still in the hallway. Footsteps sound and for a moment you're back in your memory, heavy footsteps on hardwood floors, but then you realize they don't sound right. These are on linoleum, though you're not sure how you can tell. "But she... she doesn't _remember_." 

"She doesn't?" A dark haired male asks as he steps into the room, looking intensely at the blonde and furrowing his brows. "The doctors said she might not, but we'd hoped..." 

" (Y/N)," cries out a slender, wiry man and he hurries forward to stand next to your bed, perhaps ignoring what the other two are discussing at the door. He reaches forward and slips his hand into your own. This time you don't flinch, because you're expecting it now. Your mind isn't as dull and fogged up as before. You stare up at him curiously as he leans forward, curving his body over your own and staring down into your eyes. He looks relieved, happy, and a smile curls his mouth. "I was so scared," the brunet tells you softly. His eyes are still warm as they rove over your face. You stare up at him silently and just blink in response. There's a feeling of familiarity in the back of your head, but otherwise you have no idea who this man is. There's nothing else there to hint at who he might be. 

"Who," you begin to whisper, but then get cut off. 

"Reid," the blonde calls and places a hand gently on the taller man's shoulder. "She doesn't... Reid, she doesn't remember." 

"What?" He staggers back and his fingers fall away from your own. For a moment you feel a keen loss in your stomach as it twists unpleasantly. You want to reach out and take them back, to weave your fingers with his own and take solace from his presence. What a strange sensation to have, wanting to be close to someone you have no idea who they are. His face shows shock now and he looks like he might have been punched hard in the stomach, all the wind knocked out of him. Pain flickers over his pale face as he turns to look back down at you, eyes searching your own. "Do you..." He trails off and gulps down a breath, tongue running over his dry lips. He looks back at the blonde lady as if it pains him to take in your blank, uncomprehending stare. "She really doesn't?" He says it in a whisper, as if by keeping it quiet it might not be true. 

"No," you answer for her. You don't like them talking about you like you're not here, like you don't have a say in this conversation. "I don't remember much of anything." 

"What's the last thing you remember?" asks the dark haired male who hadn't stepped further in the room, had stayed near the door and had his arms folded tightly across his chest. You stare at this man for a moment before glancing at the other two still near your bed. Reid, he had been called, looks pained and unhappy now instead of the greatly relieved expression he'd worn when he first stepped into the room. 

"I," you begin but trail off. You lick your own lips because they're chapped and dry, sticking together whenever you form words to say. You look away from them in hopes that it'll make this easier, drudging up the little bits you've remembered since you first awoke a short time ago. You pick at the white blanket draped over you and your fingers trail over it, drawing shapes in the fabric. Shifting, you begin to push yourself into a seated position. Reid quickly adjusts the bed and fluffs a pillow behind you to help you get situated better. You glance up at him to find him staring intensely back at you, waiting on baited breath for what you'll say. This man was your husband? No one else was looking at you like that. Surely this must be the man you were married to. Your heart beats a little faster at the thought and you jerk your eyes away, unsettled to find him watching you with such hope in his eyes. "I remember a man," you finally tell them. "We were talking and then... nothing. I woke up in a dark, dirty hallway and heard something. I think his footsteps in another room. After that... nothing. That's it." 

"That's all?" Reid asks from your bedside. You turn to peer up at him and disappointment shines in his eyes, though he keeps the rest of his face carefully neutral. You stare at him for a long time, letting the silence stretch until it's almost awkward. Nothing comes to your mind as you study this man-- this man who you're married to, this man who must love you quite dearly, this man who had been so relieved when you had woken up. You use all your willpower to try and dredge something out of your mind, but nothing comes forward. There's just an emptiness that intimidates you inside of your own head. No memories, no dreams, no fears except of the man who had taken you and possibly hurt you, this phantom man with no face. 

"I'm sorry," you tell him and look down into your lap. Tears suddenly come to your eyes and you try to push them away. Why were you...? You feel so unhappy as well now as you had looked at your husband's face, a husband you don't even know. 

"It's not your fault," he says, but somehow you feel like it still is. It's your fault you can't remember, isn't it? Something is wrong inside your own head. This man had been standing here next to you, holding his breath until you awoke, and he held your hand so gently when he had come to see how you were upon waking. You can't remember anything about him other than some stupid awkward wave, and he's here with love in his eyes as he's told that the woman he loved and married isn't inside of you. You didn't even want to look up at him to see his dark, emotion filled brown eyes as he came to accept that no memories were inside of your head. You felt like your heart was breaking, though without your memories you couldn't possibly know why.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been self-beta'd! If there are any errors, then they are my own. I hope you all enjoy this update! <3 I'm having fun rewriting all these chapters and improving them. It's only gonna get crazier from here on out! Prepare for that wild ride. ;)

“Try to keep your eyes open for me, (Y/N),” the doctor said as he put the little light up in front of your eyes. It still felt weird to be called a name you didn’t recognize, mostly because you weren’t used to it. Without any memories of being called it for years-- by family, or friends, or loved ones-- it felt like it was a brand new existence you were stepping into. “That’s it,” the doctor murmured as he moved the light back and forth. “Thank you.” He takes a step back to write something onto his clipboard.

Spencer watches from a corner of the room, folded up in a chair and peering at you from where he’s stationed himself. His eyes are dark with worry, his mouth pressed together in a tight line. He alternates between watching you to watching the doctor, occasionally glancing at the clipboard the doctor is currently scribbling on. “Doctor?” 

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about,” the doctor replied and glances towards your _husband_ with a small smile. The title still feels odd floating about your head. You’re married. You have a husband. There’s someone who loves you and wants to stick by your side, and you can’t even remember anything about them. You furrow your brows as you shake your head. It still feels weird to think that you’re married to him, this man who’s a stranger to you now. Sure, you must have known him quite well and loved him very much to get married, but all of those things are gone now. No memories have been left behind to guide you or ease the way even a little. “She’s healing and, with her condition, she’s quite lucky.” 

“My condition?” You pick up on that phrase rather than anything else. “What do you mean, doctor?” 

“Well,” he says and he glances at Spencer before turning to look at you again. “I wanted to wait and see if you got any of your memories back first, before telling you, because I feel like it would be better for you.” 

“What are you talking about?” You feel your heart pick up a bit over the words. Something was about to be revealed to you, something big, you could feel it. You stare at him with unblinking eyes, silently willing him to tell you. You don’t bother glancing at your husband, who’s probably looking even more worried now. 

“Doctor,” Spencer begins and the worry is almost palpable in the air around him. “Maybe we should wait a little bit longer?” 

“Wait for what?” You finally turned to peer at the brunet. “My memories to come back? That might not happen anytime soon, if it does at all.” You manage to ignore the wince that produces. “If this is important then I have every right to know what’s going on.” 

The doctor taps his pen gently against his clipboard, a rhythmic _tap-tap-tap_ sound that fills the tense silence. “Well, if your husband agrees…?” He casts a glance in Spencer’s direction, who slowly nods his head. There’s a flash of thought in your head-- something that feels like a memory, but not quite. Spencer never kept you from something you wanted; he was always giving you everything. You furrow your brows, but push the thought away. You’d analyze it later. For right now, you wanted to know what the doctor and Spencer were trying to keep from you until a “better time” came about. 

A long silence stretches before the doctor shuffles a bit from foot to foot. “Well then,” he says and his eyes settle back on you again. He takes a deep breath before telling you, “You’re pregnant, Mrs. Reid. Congratulations.” You manage not to wince at your last name like you did the previous times someone had addressed you with it. Instead you attempted to wrap your mind around the bombshell the doctor had just thrown at you. 

You can’t seem to manage your previously calm breathing as it slowly settles over you. You blink several times and stare between the doctor and Spencer, shock slowly filtering across your face. You’re… pregnant!? “This is a rather cruel prank to play on me, doctor,” you said, though you knew it couldn’t be a prank. It just wasn’t something a medical professional would joke about. Your lips are dry and you slide your tongue out to roll over them, before you bite gently at your bottom lip and worry it lightly. Your eyes dart between the doctor and Spencer, the latter of which is pale as he stares back at you. Furrowing your brows, you continue with, “I can’t be… pregnant.” You still haven’t gotten over the shock it would seem. 

“We think you knew before you lost your memory,” Spencer finally tells you, after the silence has become too much. The doctor quietly excuses himself to give you both a modicum of privacy so you could both speak about this alone. You stare at him with a blank expression, your mind still reeling over the news. Clasping your fingers more tightly in your lap, you bite your lower lip harder and then hiss in a breath when you must have split it. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth and you wince. Spencer is still watching you anxiously and he makes an aborted gesture as if he wanted to touch you, though he gives up halfway and lets his hands fall back to his sides. “The Unsub… he only targeted pregnant women with  (h/c) hair.” 

The silence stretches after those remarks and your heart picks up its pace. The man who had abducted you-- and possibly done horrible things to you-- had known you were pregnant? How had he even known you were pregnant? You peered down at your stomach and raised a hand slowly as if to lay it there, to feel the life growing beneath it, before your hand falls back to your lap once more. 

_“So he got you pregnant, huh?”_ You flinch at the memory of the voice and whimper, hands coming up to cover your ears. 

“No, no, no,” you mutter under your breath. Spencer finally rushes forward the last few feet, crouching down and placing his hands on your shoulders. You shrink back from the touch and your eyes are looking straight at him, but you’re not processing what you’re seeing, stuck in your own head. Whoever had said those words-- it must have been the man who’d abducted you-- had said it in a joking tone, but it hadn’t felt like he’d been joking. It had felt… “No, no,” you whispered and your hands clamped harder over your ears, as if that would keep the words from reaching you if you remembered more of what he said. 

_“Why don’t we just get rid of it, hm?”_ You feel a bit dizzy. The words reach you and you suck in a harsh breath, realizing it’s the first one you’d taken since you remembered the words. 

“He,” you begin but then have to pause for a moment to collect yourself. You’re still feeling the adrenaline from the remembered fear, the twist in your stomach and the bile rising in the back of your throat from the memory. “He wanted me to miscarry,” you whisper and Spencer’s hands-- still on your shoulders as if he could offer you some small comfort-- tighten a little in response. “He said he didn’t want me to be pregnant. He said I was filthy. He said..” 

“ (Y/N),” Spencer murmurs and his voice is so strained that you snap out of your memory, coming back to yourself and the present. You tilt your head up so your eyes could meet his own. “The baby is fine,” he tells you and runs his own tongue over his lips, looking as if his own mouth had gone dry as well. “The doctors said that you’ll have to take things easy from now on, but that… the stress wasn’t too much and no damage was done to it. You’re three months pregnant, so it’s really… you have to try to stay calm, okay? I know it’s hard, but you have to try.” 

“Okay,” you respond and for a moment you think you’ll be able to. You have to stay calm. You might not remember anything right now, but you know that you’re going to have a baby. It’s a piece of you, a piece of you and Spencer even though he’s practically a stranger. It’s something to tether you here and to hold onto. The silence stretches until, quite suddenly, you burst into tears. 

“Ah!” Spencer cries out and he wraps his arms around you. You don’t pull away and instead let him guide your head to rest on his shoulder as you cry, his hands rubbing comforting circles in your back. “(Y/N), (Y/N), it’s okay,” he whispers into your hair as he rubs his face against the top of your head. You just continue to sob into his shirt. Why you? Why did it have to be you? This was supposed to be a happy time for you. You were pregnant with your husband’s baby, a man you felt in your heart that you had loved with everything you had, before you had lost your memory. You were supposed to be at home humming to yourself, cooking, preparing for the baby. Instead you were stuck in this hospital, depressed and feeling alone in your own head. Your body felt too big for you, your mind too empty, and there were no memories except vague impressions that appeared from time to time. 

“When,” you begin to whisper and then swallow, pushing the tears away, pulling out of his embrace to swipe furiously at your eyes. “When do I get to go home?” 

“The doctor says in a week or so,” Spencer tells you. “Perhaps two. He wants to be sure you’re okay before he releases you.” He gets to his feet and takes a step back, but one hand comes out to clasp your own, pulling it away from your lap and holding it gently in his. You don’t fight him. You don’t have the energy to tell him you’re not comfortable holding his hand, because he had just cradled you whilst you cried. You feel like this is something you can give him in return-- some solace, being able to twine his fingers with your own and cling to you. Even though you don’t fully like it, it does bring you some measure of comfort to know he’s there and standing beside you through this horrible time. “Then I’ll take you home. If… if that’s what you want?” 

You pause for a moment as you think it over. “Okay,” you reply. It’s all you can manage right now. Silence descends like a familiar old blanket once more. 

  
  


* * *

“Do you remember how old you are?”

You turn your eyes to Spencer as he sits in the chair next to your bed. He has his hand holding yours, fingers loose probably in the hope that you won’t attempt to pull away. It’s nonthreatening if he keeps an easy grip and it doesn’t freak you out as much. It brings you comfort to know that he’s sitting there and with you. You also don’t have the heart to tell him not to hold your hand, because you can clearly see in his eyes how much he loves you, or… well, the _you_ that you once were. You don’t want to be the one to remind him again that you don’t remember who he is or any of your feelings for him. You shake your head at his question and turn your eyes back to the far wall, trying to return to your thoughts. 

“What about where you were born?” 

“No,” you say aloud, because you can’t just keep avoiding conversation. It seems he’s ready to try and speak with you. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to let you just back down from this. He looks down at your hands clasped together, and then he turns those eyes back up to your face. “I don’t remember much of anything,” you go on to tell him. “Just vague things.” 

“What sort of things?” He sounds so damn hopeful. Your heart twists in your chest and you refuse to meet his gaze this time. 

“I have a job,” you finally say. “I don’t remember what it is, but I know somehow that I have one. I don’t have any siblings. My father is retired but alive, while my mother is dead. You always give me what I want if I’m serious about wanting it.” 

“I see,” he sighs out and goes back to staring at your clasped hands. You tilt your head as you glance at him from the corner of your eyes. You try as hard as you can to remember something more, but it refuses to come to you. You know he’d love to hear more, to know that more is coming to you slowly. Even if it might never all return, it would still be such a cherished thing to let him know there _are_ things slowly returning. No matter how hard you try, however, your mind remains fuzzy, your memories vague and too slippery to grasp. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally pipe up with and Spencer’s head jerks up so his brown eyes meet your own  (e/c) ones. 

“Why?” He sounds truly confounded by the notion that you’re apologetic. 

“Because I can’t remember anything,” you whisper as you bite your lower lip, worrying it between your teeth. You feel so useless and helpless. You can’t even remember something that means so much to both of you. You want nothing more than to remember this man-- this lovely, adorable, awkward man who’s sitting here, holding your hand, coaxing you through this. He had even asked for leave from his job so that he could stay with you through this hard time. You couldn’t even remember one little thing for him to make him feel better. 

Then there’s this pregnancy. You know it’s wrong, but you feel like this couldn’t have come at a worst time. Sure, if you remembered Spencer and everything else, maybe you’d feel incredibly happy right now. The baby had survived untold horrors and was still growing inside of you. All you feel, though, is dread; dread at having this child and raising it, and maybe never remembering anything else again. You know Spencer won’t leave you, that he’ll stay by your side and help you day by day, little by little, but you’re still so frightened. 

A baby? Really? You being a mother just seems… out of whack somehow. It hasn’t truly settled-- the notion, the idea of the whole thing-- in your brain yet. 

“ _You’re going to be having a baby, (Y/N)!? Wow, congratulations! Who’s the father?_” The voice comes back to you and, with a jolt, you jerk your hand out of Spencer’s grasp. You make a sound and Spencer jumps to his feet, his hands landing on your shoulders as he studies you worriedly. 

“I hate this,” you seethe through your teeth as you clamp your eyes shut. “I hate having his voice in my head, to come out at the worst of times and scare me. I hate this!” There’s this fear pounding through you-- adrenaline too, a sudden spike of it keeping your blood pressure up-- and you know that voice is the voice of the man who abducted you. You have the voice of a murder locked inside of you to come out to haunt you at the worst times. You put your hands over your eyes as you try to blot out the rest of the world, shaking in Spencer’s firm grip on your shoulders. 

“(Y/N),” Spencer calls gently. His hands slowly-- so slowly, to give you time to shake him off or refuse-- move until he’s holding you carefully against him in a light hug. He rubs comforting circles on your back and breathes out against your ear, “You’re alright. Everything’s fine. You’re safe.” 

You make a sound in the back of your throat as you try to come up with something to say, but you allow it to trail off before you speak. Your hands finally fall away from your eyes and you wrap them around Spencer too, taking comfort from the embrace. You try not to let your eyes fill with tears, but it’s out of your hands at this point. The helplessness doesn’t really help either. “I remembered more of what that man said, and… I just wish that was something that _had_ been blotted out, you know? I wish I didn’t have to hear his voice in my head.” 

“What did you remember?” 

“It wasn’t much of anything,” you say as you shake your head. Spencer slowly releases you and pulls back so you can both look each other in the eyes again. “It wouldn’t help. He was just, he somehow knew I was pregnant and he was telling me congratulations.” 

“He knew?” Spencer looks even more worried now. “That means, could that mean that you knew him before you were abducted?” 

“Did I?” You feel even more out of the loop now. Your mind is starting to spin too fast for you to keep up. There’s a dull throb in your temples, and you can’t seem to wrap your thoughts around into anything that makes sense. “I think I need to lay down and rest. I’m sorry, Spencer.” 

“No, it’s fine. I’m going to go make a phone call out in the hall. You just rest. I’ll come back in a little while.” He gets to his feet and heads towards the door, but then pauses a moment to look back at you. You can’t read the expression on his face, but it doesn’t look bad. It looks soft and careful as he studies you, and then a small smile comes to his face. 

“Okay,” you tell him just so he knows you’re fine with him leaving. He hasn’t left you much since you’ve woken up. He raises a hand in a farewell wave before he opens the door and lets himself out. You lay back on your pillows and take in a deep breath, hoping to steady yourself a little. The fear in your system is already gone and you can’t recall anything else, though right now you don’t really want to try. Your mind is telling you-- whispering urgently-- that you don’t _want_ to remember. Not yet. Later, much later, but not right now. 

So you let it go, allowing the memory to slip from your mind before you could fight to regain it. It’s not something you’re ready to confront yet. You’d try again later. You weren’t strong enough yet.


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay for this chapter! I made it extra long for everyone, so I hope that makes up for it a little bit. Thank you to everyone who's left kudos or comments. As with all my fics, I highly encourage everyone to follow my [fanfiction tumblr](http://karenawilliams-sucka.tumblr.com) because I post updates and little rambling notes there about my current WIPs and all future projects. Thank you, and enjoy!

“All I’m suggesting is that you take it easy when you get home, Mrs. Reid,” the doctor told you with a patient smile. “We don’t want you to get hurt by over extending yourself.” You could hear Spencer out in the hallway at the nurse’s station as he filled out your discharge paperwork and any other documentation that needed to be done before he could take you home. His voice was a low murmur as he spoke with the nurse on duty currently. The doctor was going over a few last minute things with you as you stayed seated in the wheelchair the doctor and Spencer both insisted you use. Your ribs were still cracked and you were a bit too weak in the legs to walk around for extended periods of time. 

“I understand,” you replied as a small smile came to your lips to match the doctor’s. You found it easier to mimic others around you than to always frown at them. They were more likely to leave you alone that way. “Thank you for everything, doctor.” 

“I hope you have a good life,” he said fondly and placed a hand on your head. It was a fond pat of farewell before he exited the room. You stared after him and frowned as you became lost in your thoughts now that you were alone. 

Spencer had told you that you worked for the FBI as an agent for the Crimes Against Children Unit. You were a tech analyst for them, much like Penelope, the girl you’d woken up to a few days previously. He explained you’d joined after being busted trying to hack into the FBI’s systems, though he didn’t say why you’d tried in the first place. You were to return to work in two weeks or so, depending on your recovery. As soon as you thought of your job as a hacker you’d had this incredible urge to place your fingers on a keyboard, to feel the computer’s screen illuminate your face, to be able to type away to your heart’s content. You might have forgot a lot of things because of this amnesia, but your computer skills were apparently a skill that wasn’t amongst them. 

“Are you ready?” Spencer asked as he re-entered the room. You jumped in surprise because you hadn’t noticed him come back while you were lost in your thoughts. He’d return to work with you, but you could tell he was restless. He’d always loved his job even after Gideon had left. 

You must have made a sound in surprise at the memory that had come to you. Your hands flew up to rub at your temples. Who would have thought remembering could give you the beginnings of a headache? “What?” Spencer asked as he crouched in front of you. His brown eyes were worried and he reached out to touch your hands gently. You stared at him with large eyes and noticed the black circles underneath them for the first time. He hadn’t been sleeping well, mostly because of having to sleep on the chair next to your bedside. He’d refused to leave your side very often, if much at all. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. I just… I think I might have remembered something. It’s not a big thing, but it’s something,” you whispered as you looked up into his eyes. He leaned forward and tenderly brushed a hand at the hair that was currently in front of your eyes. You blinked in surprise, but you didn’t bother to comment. You’d started to realize you didn’t mind him touching you-- or being loving-- as much as you’d thought you would when you first woke up. 

“What did you remember?” he asked quietly. 

“I was thinking, and suddenly the thought came to me that you’ve always loved your job.” You paused a moment and smiled a little as you pondered over the new memory. “Even after Gideon left, you still enjoyed it.” You watched his face as his eyes studied your own and then he smiled. It wasn’t big, but he was obviously pleased that you’d remembered _something_. It seemed so small to you, but anything was better than nothing at all. Maybe this was a big thing to him? You weren’t sure. 

“You remembered Gideon?” he inquired. 

“Yes. Not very well, but… somewhat,” you replied as his hands go down to clasp your own. His thumbs brushed softly against your skin, back and forth, back and forth. It was almost soothing to feel him touching you and it felt like it grounded you a little. 

“What did you remember about him?” Spencer stared straight at you and had probably forgotten that you were both supposed to be getting ready to leave. His attention was focused solely on you and he seemed to be waiting with baited breath. You could almost see the hope hidden in his gaze, that this little thing will trigger more memories to burst free from within your mind. That you’d finally remember him and everything that the two of you had shared to this point in time. 

“He was your mentor. You looked up to him. He was a brilliant man, and… someone close to him was killed,” you whispered and your voice dropped lower as you remembered, as the long forgotten sadness reopened like it was only just yesterday it’d happened. “He took a leave of absence, but then he never came back. You looked for him-- sought him out-- and found a letter he’d left for you at his cabin. He knew you’d come. He just _knew_ somehow.” 

“Yes,” Spencer replied softly as he watched you unblinkingly. You didn’t say anything else. You couldn’t _remember_ anything else. That was all you’d been able to grasp before the slippery knowing had faded out of your mind again. He waited a little longer, waited for you to remember more, to tell him even more about your memories, to make him realize you’d remembered everything. He was always waiting now, staring at you patiently, and you’d wondered if he would _always_ be waiting. Would you ever remember? Would you ever put him out of his misery and help him to be happy again? 

“That’s it, Spencer. I’m sorry.” You shook your head to dispel the sadness that had begun to cling to you. 

“It’s not your fault,” he reassured you with a tired smile. He walked behind you and started to push the wheelchair out of the room. He waved goodbye as the nurses bid you both farewell. You just smiled tiredly at them all, your mind elsewhere and abuzz with thoughts. 

“It sure feels like it is,” you whispered though you knew he could no longer hear you. “It feels like this is all my fault.” And maybe it is. Maybe this is all your fault, but there was no way for you to tell. 

The drive to your home was done in silence. It only took twenty minutes, but the tense atmosphere set you on edge. You were sure it was all in your head. Spencer probably didn’t feel at all awkward or unpleasant as you both drove. “Here we are,” Spencer announced as he pulled up to the curb in front of what appeared to be your house. You peered out the window, curious in spite of yourself, to see a simple one story home. It’s not big (“ _Spence, I don’t want a big house! I want a small one filled with love,_ ” your voice had said teasingly) and it’s not fancy either, but you could tell it’s one that’s taken care of. 

You turned your head and tore your eyes away from the house to glance at his face. “This is our house?” you questioned. You already knew the answer, but you still felt like you should pose the question. 

Spencer smiled at you fondly and then turned it upon the house. He looked back at you a moment later. “Yes,” he told you in a pleased voice. Maybe he’d started to feel more hope for the future now that he had you back at the house where you two lived happily. Maybe he thought you’d start to remember more things now that you were around familiar settings. Now that you aren’t cooped up in the hospital, surrounded by unfamiliar things, now that you have things around you that you’ve always had around you and memories from long ago floating about. “This is our home.” 

You stared at the house again as Spencer got out of the car. He walked around to your side and opened the door for you, before he helped you clamber to your feet. You leaned against him as you both walked up the path toward the front door. Your arm was in a sling from being broken and your legs were slightly wobbly from the painkillers, and your ribs ached something fierce, but otherwise you seemed to be alright. You couldn’t walk very well on your own-- at least not for long distances-- and you do have quite a few scratches and bruises still, but otherwise you seemed to be healing up at a steady pace. 

“I like it,” you admitted suddenly and smiled up at the house as you both reached the front door. “It’s perfect.” 

“That’s what you said when we bought it, actually.” 

You blinked in surprise at him, caught off guard, before you laughed. “I did, did I? How ironic.” 

He opened the front door before he ushered you inside, assisting you in before he closed the door to lock it firmly behind you both. You glanced around as you tried to take everything in at once. It’s only one floor, so thankfully you didn’t have to worry about getting too lost in all this new space. You were currently in the entrance hall, which had light green walls and a dark polished wood floor. You peered through the arch to your right into a large living room and decide to walk in that direction. 

“That’s the living room,” Spencer told you and confirmed what you’d first thought. “You decorated it yourself. You told me I didn’t have an eye for that kind of thing. Do you want to go in there first?” He followed along at your side and you nod your head, so he took your arm and helped you walk slowly that way. 

The living room had a big, open floor plan with large windows to one side of the room. The windows overlooked the front yard and the street beyond it. The walls are a light yellow in color, not dull but not overly bright either. Just enough color to make the right impact on a person as they entered, enough color to make the room feel cheery. There’s a dark brown couch situated in front of a TV, with a matching brown loveseat perpendicular to that. 

The next thing that caught your eye was all the pictures. There are tons of them all over the walls and on some shelving set to the side of the television. You feel a spark in your mind as you remembered laughing as you hung some of these, thinking about how surprised Spencer would be when he got home. He never did hang any of his pictures in his _bachelor pad_. You blinked a few times before you headed towards the pictures to get a closer look. The first one was of you and Spencer holding hands in a park, though neither of you are looking toward the camera. You have a feeling someone took that picture without your knowledge and then gave it to you later. You both looked so happy as you gazed at each other, your eyes alight with laughter and Spencer smiling wryly at you. The smile looked like you’d just done or said something funny to him, and it filled you with a little warmth at the thought of this moment you’d had. 

The next picture was one of Spencer as he graduated from high school, and you’re shocked to remember he’d graduated at the age of twelve. He looked so young in the picture, even for a twelve-year-old! Then the one after that is of him as he graduated from college with a huge smile on his face. Your eyes continued going to take in all of the pictures that’d been hung that were from your childhood, along with a few more of Spencer when he was little. He’d been so cute with those geeky glasses. 

The last one-- the one that had the most impact on you-- was the one that’s from your wedding. You can tell it’s from the wedding; the way the two of you are dressed in it just gave it away. Spencer was actually grinning so wide you think that his jaw might crack and you looked flushed, though whether from alcohol or happiness you can’t tell. Probably just a mixture of both. Spencer had his hands on your waist and you were beaming up at him. Your heart started to beat a little faster. God, the look on your face told you everything: you loved this man with your entire heart, before your memories were taken away from you. This was the man you wanted to create a life with, to live with til your dying day, this was the man who’d stolen your breath every time he’d kissed you. He’d made you feel like the happiest girl in the world every time he whispered that he loved you. 

Spencer was quiet while you peered at each of the pictures, while you kept having your eyes going back to the wedding picture. As you studied it, as you bit your lower lip in thought, he just watched your face calmly. Suddenly, out of the blue, there came a vibration from his pant’s pocket. It made both of you jump in surprise. Spencer’s hand went down to fish into his pocket and pulled out his old phone. The thought came to you that he _still_ refused to upgrade to a new one. 

“ _Jeez, Spence, we could afford to buy you a new one, you know._ ” 

“ _I like this one though._ ” 

“ _You’re a strange man, Spencer Reid._ ” 

“Oh,” he said as he read the Caller ID, then flipped it open to answer. You stared at him quietly and didn’t open your mouth to utter a word. He flashed you an apologetic smile, but you shrugged your shoulders. Knowing that you wouldn’t get upset, Spencer decided to answer the call. “Hello?” 

He walked slowly over to stand in front of the big windows and peered out of them while he talked quietly on the phone. You didn’t try to hear what was being said. You didn’t really care that much, not knowing who it was that had called him. Probably someone from work, you figured. They hadn’t had him in so long, something must have finally come up that they really needed him for. You shivered as you thought about him leaving you alone here to run to work. Would you be able to handle yourself all alone in this foreign house? It might have been your home, but you certainly didn’t remember it anymore. What if that man came back fro you? What if you died this time? 

You shook the thoughts off just in time to hear Spencer say, “Hotch, I can’t just leave her alone.” There was another long pause as Spencer seemed to listen to something Hotch was saying. His eyes flickered to your face and then away as his brows furrowed in agitation. Spencer really didn’t want to leave you alone. You felt relieved and you sighed, happy to know that he wouldn’t abandon you. 

“Spencer,” you said as you smiled a little at him. “I’ll go too. I can spend some time with Garcia, right? It’s no big deal. They need you, so don’t worry about me. Okay?” 

Spencer stared at you for another moment before he nodded his head. “We’ll be there in fifteen,” he told Hotch and then hung up. “Are you sure?” he asked you once the call was ended. He walked over to stand in front of you and licked his lips. You suddenly recalled that that’s his nervous habit and you smiled up at him as you nodded. He reached out to grab your hands and held them for a brief moment, before he let them go and nodded himself. “Thank you, (Y/N).” 

“No problem,” you replied with a shrug. He might be able to help someone if he was with the team, you told yourself. It’d be selfish of you to keep him from during what he could to help. 

You both headed toward the car. Spencer pulled you to him so you could lean against him while you walked, and you sighed in relief once more. At least you wouldn’t have to be alone. You couldn’t put your finger on this sudden fear that you’d be attacked. Ever since you left the hospital, however, you didn’t feel like you’d be safe alone. You’d have to face this fear eventually, but for right now you wanted to avoid it at all costs. You didn’t feel strong enough to face your fears. Not yet. 

Once you were seated inside the car, Spencer snapped his fingers. “Hold on a second,” he told you. “I’ll bring your laptop. You need something to do while you wait.” You looked at him in surprise and opened your mouth to decline but he’d already ran back toward the house. You stared out the car after him and your heart lurched up into your throat. Okay, so you had to be alone sooner than you’d thought you’d have to. 

It was only five minutes later before he came back out, but it felt a lot longer to you. Your heart was still in your throat as he stepped outside and shut the front door behind him. He jogged back up to you and handed you a messenger bag. “Here,” he said and wrapped your fingers around the strap. “This is yours. At least you won’t be bored when we get there.” 

“Right,” you agreed in a shaky voice. Spencer paused a moment to study your face before he frowned. You shook your head to dispel your fears and forced a smile to your lips. “Good idea. Thanks.” 

Spencer studied you for another moment before he nodded in reply. He shut the door firmly and ran around to the other side so he could slide into the driver’s seat. The drive to the FBI only took fifteen minutes, but it was spent in much the same way the trip from the hospital was. You didn’t bother to try and force a conversation, and Spencer seemed to understand your need for quiet. You picked at a stray loose strand on your messenger bag as you stared out the window at the passing houses outside. 

Your husband helped you out of the car once you’d parked. You stumbled a little as your knees still felt weak, but otherwise you were able to walk on your own. When you reached the elevators you pulled yourself away from Spencer and shot him a smile. “I think I can fumble along,” you told him when he reached a hand out to grasp your shoulders to steady you. He pulled away a second later with a frown, but didn’t force the issue. 

“Garcia’s this way,” Spencer told you as you reached his floor. You felt a sense of wrongness as you got off on this floor, but you figured that was probably because it wasn’t the one for your own job. You trailed along behind him as he went towards where Penelope’s own little office must be. 

“Welcome to my lair, fair (Y/N),” Penelope greeted with a smirk and a flourish as you entered. She took a step back away from the door and threw her arms out to show you the entirety of the room. Her eyes seemed to notice your laptop bag and she grinned. “Let me clear off a space for you! You can play solitaire or something.” 

You glanced around as she shuffled some things out of the way on a spare desk in the corner. You wondered what your own office looked like upstairs. Did it have figurines like Garcia’s did? Had you added a personal touch to your own office? You worked as a tech analyst just like Garcia did, but for another unit altogether. “Thanks,” you told her once she’d cleared off a spot for you. 

You stepped forward to sink down into the seat she’d procured for you. You set your bag down and slid your laptop out of it a moment later. You ran a shaky hand over its surface and smiled a little with pleasure at the feeling. You glanced at Garcia when she didn’t make a sound as you studied your laptop to find her watching you quietly. 

“Careful not to overexert yourself,” Garcia told you worriedly as she sat back down. Her eyes studied your face as you opened your laptop slowly. “Reid doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. I’m supposed to keep you company and chat you up.” More like the other way around, but you didn’t bother to correct her. You both knew the truth, but she was trying to gloss things over and make you feel better, make you feel less weak. 

“What are they working on?” you asked after a few minutes of silence. The entire way here Spencer hadn’t mentioned why Hotch had called him in. You knew it was something about a case, something that was important, but he hadn’t mentioned what case or even if it was a case. Maybe something else was going on? Who knows. He seemed way too engrossed in his own thoughts and worries on the ride for you to break into them. You hadn’t wanted to ask him what was going on and interrupt him. You’d ask him later, if you even remembered, that is. 

“The case,” she told you with another worried frown. “The one that you got wrapped up in.” The one about the man who kidnapped you, you realized she’d meant. It seemed she hadn’t wanted to outright say it. 

“What happened?” You gripped the arms of your chair and leaned forward so your eyes could stare straight at her own. “What happened, Garcia? Did something bad happen? Did they catch him? Do they know who it is?” Your beat rapidly in your throat as your thoughts whirled a mile a minute. Your breath accelerated along with your rapidly thrumming heart. You were scared, all of a sudden, for no reason. The man couldn’t get in here and he couldn’t hurt you, but you were worried nonetheless. What if they’d caught him? What if they wanted you to face him in trial? What if… 

“Another girl was abducted,” Garcia said and cut into your rapid thoughts. She said it so softly that you almost didn’t catch it at first. 

“What?” Your voice was breathless from shock and growing horror. 

“Another girl,” Garcia repeated and swallowed hard to try and clear her voice so it wasn’t as soft. “Another girl was abducted a few hours ago. They just found out now. She was five months pregnant, and she had (h/c) hair, so the husband is really scared it might be… it might be the unsub.” 

You stared at her with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Another girl, another girl who had to go through the same things you had, but what _did_ you go through? You don’t know. You don’t want to know. You attempt to calm your breathing and your rapidly beating heart, and you clenched your hands tighter on the chair’s arms when that didn’t work. “So they needed Spencer to come in and help?” 

“Yeah, they needed all hands on--” 

She stopped when there came a ringing from the phone and, as she turned, she plopped a pen down onto the speakerphone button. It allowed Morgan’s voice to filter into the room. “Garcia, we need you to look some things up for us. We have to work fast if we hope to find this girl before something bad happens.” 

“Of course,” Garcia said and rolled back to sit in front of her computer. Her face was a determined mask now as she went into full professional hacker mode. “Go ahead.” 

Morgan started to list off things the team needed Penelope to find, and you tuned it out and looked at your laptop again. You bit your lower lip and worried it between your teeth as emotions filled you. You wanted to help. You wanted to lend a hand and help them find out who this horrible monster was, but you didn’t feel like you’d be much help. Without your memories there was still a lot of things you didn’t know and you might lead them the wrong way with your opinions and findings. So you sat calmly in the back of the room with your laptop as you watched Penelope hang up and go right to work. 

You hated this. You hated feeling so _helpless_ , but what else could you possibly do? 

It was almost half an hour later when you realized how bored you were. You’d been staring at Garcia for most of it as she typed furiously on her keyboard and answered calls from Morgan, or anyone else who called for her. You chewed on your lower lip as you mulled things over, and finally you gave up. You turned toward your computer and reached out to push the button that’d power it on. You watched as it hummed to life and the screen lightened. 

“Hey,” Garcia said as she turned around, her eyes wide in surprise. “What are you doing? Reid wanted you to take it easy, and--” 

“I feel like I’m going stir crazy! Just let me boot it up or something, okay? I mean, we brought it for a reason, right?” 

Garcia frowned but nodded. “Yeah, you can play solitaire or something. Spencer said you were always doing that when you were procrastinating,” Garcia finally told you after another moment of silence. “You have a bunch of games on there, I bet.” 

Your lips tilted up at the edges into a smile for just a moment. Your eyes went back to your computer after, and Garcia went back to her own work. Her fingers were lightning quick as she rapidly punched in letters and numbers, so you left her be once more. You turned fully back to your computer and you blinked when you realized it required a username and password. “Oh, uh, Garcia?” She glanced over her shoulder at you and raised a brow. “Did Spencer happen to tell you my username or password?” 

“Your username is your last name and then your first name, but I don’t know your password though. If you can’t crack it, I’ll see about hacking into it later for you, okay?” She smiled at you before she went back to her work. It left you to chew over what she’d told you in thought as you studied the screen. What would you have put as your password? You enter in your last name, then your first, but you paused as the cursor hovers over where you’re supposed to input a password. 

You tried Spencer’s name, then his first name and last name, but still you couldn’t figure it out. You squinched up your face in thought as you try to remember what your password was. There was a brief flash of memory, you inputting something which pertained to Spencer, but that was it. You tilted your head and leaned back in your chair. You sat there for the new few minutes as you mulled over what it could be. What would you have made it be? What would you have felt safe putting in? 

Suddenly you blinked in surprise as a flash of something comes to you. You leaned forward and typed in _mismatchedsocks_ all scrunched together and lower case. The monitor turned black for a moment before it lit up again and allowed you access to your computer. You blinked and stared at the screen for a little longer before you started to giggle. Garcia glanced over her shoulder at you and raised a brow, but you just shook your head. “I figured out my password,” you told her in response and she quirked her lips, but didn’t ask any further. 

A thought occurred to you-- one that made you pause and stare at your computer-- before your heartbeat picked up. What if you had something in here that could bring up more memories? What if you’d saved things on this computer-- like pictures or videos-- that would jog your memory? You slowly started to comb through your system. There is, indeed, pictures of you and Spencer together, along with a few of other people you don’t recognize. There are even pictures of you with some other members of the BAU team, and agents who you had a vague thought belonged to the Crimes Against Children Unit. They were at less formal places, such as bars and the such, so they must have happened in down time. 

Finally, after about another hour of combing through various pictures and random music files that you’d found saved on your computer, you came across a video titled _Spencer_. You blinked in surprise and clicked on it as you watched the video pop up on the center of the screen. You held your breath as it loaded and, finally, opened up to show Spencer’s face staring directly into the camera. 

“ _What’re you doing?_ ” He sounded curious and slightly amused, and his lips were quirked up as he stared at the camera. Obviously you’re the one holding the camera, because when the person he spoke to speaks it’s your voice from off screen. 

“ _I want a video of you I can remember you by,_ ” you said in a teasing voice. You sounded happy. In the present you smile a little bit at the infectious giggle that came from offscreen. Spencer smiled warmly back and reached out, like he wanted to snatch the camera from you, but the screen shakes as you manage to get away. He’s further away now which showed you had darted off so he wouldn’t be able to take the camera from you. You hear yourself laughing at him in the video. 

“ _Spence! Don’t! I told you, this is so I can have something to watch whenever you’re gone. So I can laugh and think, ‘Oh my! My husband is so handsome!’_ ” 

By this time Garcia had stopped what she’d been doing and was now watching the video as well. There was a smile on her face as she listened to you and Spencer speak, and tears are now coming to your eyes. From what you can read in your past self’s voice you’d really loved Spencer. The look in his eyes and the way he was smiling back at you tells you all you need to know about his own feelings for you. This man adored you. He loved you with all of his heart and, from how worried he gets over you, you can tell he’d do anything to keep you safe. You sniffle a little and reach up to swipe a hand at your eyes, but you don’t tear them away from the screen. 

“ _(Y/N) , let’s go to bed. I’m tired. Aren’t you?_” He smiled at you as he took another step forward, but the camera shakes as you dart away from him again. He sighed and shook his head at you, and you can almost see him rolling his eyes from across the room. “ _You’re so silly sometimes, (Nickname)._” 

“ _I try!_ ” you responded with good cheer as you slowly walked back toward him. He watched you, his hands at his sides, showing he wasn’t going to try and snatch the camera away from you again. The camera shook as it was set down on a bookshelf, the one you’d seen earlier in the living room, and then suddenly you appear on screen. You run full out at poor Spencer and fling yourself into his arms as he grunted and caught you. His arms are around your waist as he held you against him and glanced down. He smiled gently at the top of your head and you look up at him. From the angle you’re at you could see his lips tilting upward in a small grin, which you returned happily. 

“ _I love you, Dr. Spencer Reid._ ” 

“ _I love you too, Mrs. Spencer Reid,_ ” Spencer replied before he leaned down and sealed the words with a kiss. The video turned off and left you with tears in your present self’s eyes as you stared at the screen. You’d give anything to go back to that time and place, before you had amnesia, before you were scared of some unknown presence, before Spencer was practically a strange to you. 

You’d give _anything_. 

“Spencer’s on his way back,” Garcia told you after a long stretch of silence. You’d given up going through your computer and instead just sat there and stared at your computer screen. There wasn’t much else on your laptop that you’d found. You weren’t in the mood to dig through your documents and folders, to try and find hidden ones, because you just suddenly felt drained. You wanted to go home, close your eyes, and forget everything for a little while. You wanted to dream that everything was okay again and none of this had happened. 

“Okay,” you replied after more silence as you realized that Garcia was getting more and more worried with the stretching silence. You turned your chair so you could face her, as she watched you with anxious eyes, and you forced a smile to your lips. “Thanks, Garcia.” 

“For what?” 

“For letting me stay here with you while they worked the case,” you replied as you twiddled your fingers together. You looked down at them so you wouldn’t have to look her in the eye. “I didn’t want to be home alone.” 

“I don’t blame you,” she said as she smiled a little at you. “You just went through a traumatic experience. Even though you can’t remember it right now, you probably still have that sense of dread, right?” When you nodded, she continued, “I wouldn’t want to be left alone either, so don’t worry about it. Okay?” 

“Okay,” you replied right as there came a sharp rap against the door. You and she both turned toward it right as Spencer opened the door, a nervous smile on his lips which he licked as your eyes met. 

“You ready?” he asked. You nodded your head in response and slowly got to your feet so you could walk over toward him. He reached out to wrap an arm around your shoulder to pull you to him. You blinked in surprise, but didn’t protest. You allowed him to hug you and then he took a step back. He stepped around you to grab your laptop for you, and he snapped it closed before sliding it into your messenger bag. “Let’s go home.” 

“Alright,” you said in reply and, with one last wave of farewell to Garcia, you and Spencer left the office. The ride home is quiet. You and he don’t bother to say anything to each other, just as the previous two rides before. You already know he and his team had been unsuccessful with gathering clues about who the true unsub was. Garcia had already told you before Spencer had showed up. You don’t see any reason in saying something to him about the case. He hadn’t even wanted you to know about it yet, not until you were stronger, so you know if he found out that you know then he’d just worry about you. Probably constantly. 

“Here we are,” Spencer said as he parked in front of the house. There’s another car, you finally notice, in the driveway and that’s the reason Spencer doesn’t park there. You blinked and tilted your head as you studied it, and then it comes back to you that that’s _your_ car. It’s a lot newer than Spencer’s own, mostly because Spencer refused to get a new car since he likes this one. Yours is only a few years old, you remembered suddenly, and you smile at it for a moment before Spencer asked you what’s up. 

“I just remembered that that’s my car, that’s all,” you replied as you turned your eyes toward him and he smiled back at you. You got out of the car as he walked around and helped you, and then you walked toward the front door. “Maybe you can take me out driving sometime? I’d like to know if I remember how to.” 

“Sure,” he told you as he unlocked and opened the front door. “We could do that sometime next week.” 

“Alright,” you said and didn’t bother to ask why it can’t be this week. It’s only Tuesday, after all. There’s plenty of time this week, but you already figured out that he was going to spend more time at the office, now that there’s been another girl abducted. They had probably sent him home because of you, not because they couldn’t use him anymore. Everyone else was probably still out there, trying to find out all they could, but they knew they couldn’t keep you with Garcia all night. You were still a bit weak when it came to your body, so you needed to be able to go home and sleep. They also probably knew that neither you nor Spencer would tolerate you being sent home to stay alone. 

“The bedroom’s this way,” he told you as you both walked down the entrance hall to the very back, where there’s a door to the left that leads into the bedroom. You entered and glanced around, taking in that it’s painted a light shade to match the rest of the house. You quirk your lips as you realize it must be one of yours favorite colors. 

“I can sleep on the couch if that makes you more comfortable,” he suddenly said from behind you. It caused you to turn around and blink at him in surprise. YOu hadn’t even thought about the fact that the two of you, as husband and wife, shared a bed. You turn to stare at the bed and bite your lower lip. You’d feel horrible if you made him go sleep out there, honestly. You’d also spend teh whole night worrying about being alone in this room, without anyone else nearby, because Spencer was all the way down the hall. What if something happened to you and he couldn’t hear from all the way over there? 

“No,” you finally said after several long moments of silence. You sighed heavily. “I’d prefer it if you slept in here with me. I don’t mind.” 

“Are you sure?” Spencer didn’t look convinced, but you nodded firmly at him. 

“We’re married. We’ve done this before,” you pointed out. “I just have… to remember it, that’s all.” You turned away and stared at the dresser before you moved forward to start to fumble around to find your pajamas. Spencer closed the bedroom door, but only after first going down the hall to make sure the front door is locked. He also started to undress, though you turn your back to him so you won’t see. There’s a blush that heated up your cheeks now and you tell yourself how stupid you are, because you’re married to this man and pregnant with his child. Obviously you guys have seen each other naked and done a lot more than get changed for bed! 

“I’m done,” he said and you blushed darker when you realized he’d figured out why you weren’t turned around to face him. You glanced around at him after you put on your pajama top and smiled nervously. He smiled back and licked his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing with his nervous swallowing. 

You both got into bed without another word, mostly because you know you’d start blushing even worse if he said something else. Spencer turned off the bedside lamp that’s on his side and the room is plunged into darkness, but only for a few minutes. After that your eyes started to adjust and you could see the moon is shining through the windows to one side of the room. You smiled a little at the calm silver light that filtered through the blinds there, and then snuggled deeper into your pillows. You pulled the blankets over you and fell asleep. 

Spencer stayed awake a bit longer than you and listened to your breathing even out, before he realized you’d fallen fast asleep. He turned on his side so he could peer at you, at the  (h/c) hair that had fallen to cover your eyes and is now over most of your face. He smiled at the slight curve of your lips from whatever you’re wrapped up in dreams. He’s glad; you must be having a nicer dream than what you had to deal with when you were awake. The first few nights after you woke up without memories you’d had nothing but nightmares. It tortured Spencer that he couldn’t do anything to protect you from them. He’d had nightmares regularly but he didn’t want you to be a victim of them as well. 

It was his job to protect you and, obviously, he’d failed at that. He hadn’t been there for you when you’d gotten abducted, and they’d just barely been able to find you in time. The unsub was on the last day he kept his victims alive. He could’ve killed you. He could have slit your throat, or done any number of things he’d done to his previous victims. The unsub loved to switch things up and kill each girl in a completely new way. They always knew it was him, though because of the hair color of the victims and the fact that they’d all been pregnant. 

Pregnant, he thought as his eyes trailed down your body to your stomach. There was no sign that you were pregnant yet on the outside, but Spencer could feel his heart pick up the pace when he thought about the baby in there. His baby, your baby, together it’s going to be your child. What happened if you never remembered him? What happened if you kept on living your life without your memories? Would you leave him? What happened to the child then? He furrowed his brows and licked his lips as he tried to calm himself. He needed to sleep. He had to go into work tomorrow and he’ll have to drive you to your father’s house to spend time there while he worked. He didn’t want to leave you alone, but he also didn’t want you to go to the office because then you’d be tempted to work. You needed to rest and relax, not work your fingers to the bone trying to find information on this unsub who’d done horrible things to you. 

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Spencer is able to close his eyes and sleep. He’d do his job better, he swore to himself. This time, he’d protect you no matter what.


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to, first off, apologize for how long this update took. I've taken it upon myself to rewrite several important plot points to improve them, which meant that it made me more sluggish to actually get to work on the chapter. Oops!
> 
> The good news, for those readers who've been here since I first posted this story back around 2011, is that there is 2000 words of new content, as well as things being rewritten to flow and sound better. So I hope you returning readers really enjoy that.
> 
> One last thing I want to touch upon is that, originally, the reader was a second tech analyst with Garcia. However, many years later, I've decided to change that _entirely_ and she has a new job. She now works for Crimes Against Children Unit, which will make her background and such more interesting! And also a lot more new content, which will be great for you! :'D
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy this chapter! It turned out to be a lot longer than I first anticipated! Of course, this chapter would be way shittier if it hadn't been for the help of [burbear](http://archiveofourown.org/users/burbear) reading it over and editing it! You're the best!!

It was a dream. You realized this almost as soon as you were dropped into it, but it didn’t help with the strange awareness all the same. There wasn’t much here, in this dream, except a field of flowers and a tree in the very middle. You took a step toward the tree before you paused. Your brows furrowed, anxious at the awareness that something was at that tree, something you didn’t want to see. You took a step back and turned away from it. You weren’t ready to go there, not yet. You’d go somewhere else.

You walked for what felt like hours. There was nothing but flowers bending slightly in the chilly breeze that passed over them. You collapsed onto your knees and inhaled deeply, taking in the sickly sweet scent of their fragrance. 

Suddenly there were voices from ahead, which made your head snap up. You tried to catch sight of who was talking, but the voices were so light and no one else seemed to be here. There was only a tree, off in the distance, which gave you a foreboding feeling deep in your gut. You felt like laying down, here in these flowers. You felt like you should just allow time to pass you by. It would be so easy, to collapse into the slightly damp grass and let your worries pass over you, to let them go somewhere else and ignore them. You don’t want to see where those voices are coming from. 

If you went… if you found those voices, then pain would come to you. You’d feel it in every pore of your skin. You’d feel it in every bone of your body. Who would want to go willingly to such pain? Certainly not you, and yet… 

Your hand came up to your face so you could peer at the wedding ring wrapped around your finger. It’s not just you that hung in this precarious balance. Spencer did too, and the baby that was inside of you. You couldn’t just give up, not just because there was pain ahead, not just because horrible things might happen to you. None of that meant you should give up so easily. 

You clambered to your feet, though it was a hard battle just to make your limbs cooperate, and took a step forward. The ground opened up beneath you, and you opened your mouth to scream. Before you could, however, you’d already been swallowed up by darkness. You can’t move-- something out in the dark was too strong and held you in place-- and it pressed in all around you. You couldn’t breathe either, you realized, as you struggled for air and tried to move your arms. 

Then, the darkness vanished as a brilliant flash came from all around you. Your hands rushed up to shield your face from the blinding light. 

“ _Hey, honey!_ ” a voice spoke, and you weren’t sure from which direction it originated from. You were still too confused. What was going on? 

“ _Don’t call me honey, sugar,_ ,” came the reply, and you could hear the smile in that person’s voice. It sounded… it sounded a lot like… 

“ _Well, what’s your name then? I haven’t seen you around here before. You’re new, huh?_ ” Dream you-- or real you? This was the real you, wasn’t it?-- was finally able to open your eyes. Your hands dropped down to your sides as you inspected the scene that had unfolded in front of you. You’re in the bullpen for the FBI’s BAU team. Derek Morgan stood there, hands folded over his chest, as he smiled charmingly towards you. Was that dream you? Or were you dream you? You were in a dream, and yet… your eyes go to the you that Morgan had spoken to. You’re younger, at least by a few years, and you’re wearing a small smile with quirked brows. 

“ _I’m (Y/N),_” you supplied with a small wave of your hand, the one that wasn’t clutched around a to-go mug from some coffee shop down the street. “ _That’s all you wanted to know?_ ” 

“ _Yeah, honey, that’s all I wanted to know,_ ” Derek said with a smirk as he turned and headed back towards his team. Your eyes-- the real you, not the past you-- follow along with him and you see Spencer was seated at his desk, head bent and face serious as he typed away on his computer. Someone else is there as well too, someone you find familiar but don’t recognize. Your mind hurts a little as you try to drag a name up out of the murky water that your vanished memories have become. She must be part of the same team as Spencer then. Gideon and Hotch have just started to approach them as the memory of yourself rolled her eyes. 

“ _It’s (Y/N),_” not-really-you called after him, but you have a small smile on your lips, amusement in your eyes. “ _Not honey._ ” Exasperated, you sigh and turn to march away. You’re headed back towards the elevator. Obviously this wasn’t your floor. You know yourself that it’s not, because earlier you’d been told where your job was, and it was several floors higher. You must have gotten lost. Spencer, you noticed out of the corner of your eye, had raised his head upon hearing your exclamation at Morgan’s back. He stared after you with a confused frown on his face, but turned away when Gideon spoke to him. That was when the memory dissolved all around you. 

The real you-- or should you still say dream you, because the real you must be asleep, this has to be a dream-- dropped into the abyss again. This time you don’t struggle, because your mind has accepted this must be a dream. There’s no other explanation for all of these weird visions and sensations coursing through you. The black void won’t hurt you, it’s just there, it just exists, and you just have to drop through it to the next memory. Is this how you were going to finally remember things? Through the dreams you have every night? You furrowed your brows as you finally hit what felt like solid ground again. You closed your eyes, allowed the bright flash of light to surround you. 

Silence surrounded you after the light had faded. You opened your eyes slowly and realized you’re back in the office, but it’s dark. Most of the lights were off as if the entire building is closed, which it must be. Everyone must have gone home by now. The past you was nowhere to be seen. You turned around and wondered where memory you is, because surely for this memory to exist you have to be _somewhere_ in this dark room. Suddenly you heard a thud and, as you turned towards it, you see where the past you had been. You popped out from underneath a desk with a triumphant expression. “ _Damn earring,_ ” you muttered as you clambered to your feet and, with a frown, glanced around the room. 

“ _Spencer,_ ” you called out into the darkness and, after a loud thud, you continued with, “ _I found it!_ ” Spencer popped out from underneath another desk across the room and rubbed the top of his head, telling you he’d knocked it against the underside in surprise. You smiled a little at this memory. His hair was a bit mussed now and it didn’t get better after he rubbed the top of it. 

“ _A-ah! You did?_ ” 

Your counterpart nodded as she put the earring back to her ear and screwed it into place. Her eyes were on Spencer and there was a small smile that played around the edges of her lips. She walked slowly toward him, as he still rubbed his head a little absentmindedly. “ _Thank you so much for helping me though, Dr. Reid! That was very kind of you. I hadn’t realized I’d left it down here until my boss brought us all back to our floor a little while ago._ ” 

Spencer nodded and seemed to studiously ignore the blush that had filled his cheeks. He shoved his hands into his pockets as you smiled up at him. You leaned up on your tiptoes-- he was so tall!-- and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. You giggled and bounced back a little as you watched the flush deepen even more, before you turned and walked away. “ _I’ll see you around, Dr. Reid!_ ” 

Not-Memory-You watch Spencer after you’ve vanished from sight, as one of his hands slowly raised up to press his fingers against the spot where you’d kissed. He smiled a little as he watched you disappear from sight, then turned back toward his own desk, probably to finish paperwork. The smile didn’t leave his lips as he seated himself and started to hum lightly under his breath. 

You closed your eyes and allowed the memory to slip away from you. Once you opened them again you realized you were back in those flowers again, sitting on them with your legs stretched out before you. You looked around in confusion, not sure how you’d come to be here. What happened? Was that all you’d be allowed to remember? You allowed your body to fall backward until you sprawled out on the flowers. They brushed against your skin and tickled across your arms and legs, which were bare now that your awareness was spreading farther than before. You closed your eyes again and breathed deeply of the heavy fragrance that wafted in the air, trying to calm your suddenly racing heart. 

You sat up when you realized why. You twisted and looked to the tree from before, the tree that had filled you with dread. It was only a few feet away now, close enough that, if you wanted, you could probably easily crawl to it. Your heart stalled for a lurching moment in your chest and your throat closed up with horror. 

“No,” you whispered as you jumped to your feet. You had to get away from here! “No, no, no!” 

You took a few steps back, tried to get away, but you knew. You knew you were much too close to escape now, and if you were close, that meant _he_ could see you. You shook your head as tears pricked your eyes, and then you slammed them closed as you heard a crunch of a boot behind you. “It’s not real,” you told yourself softly, pathetically. “It’s not real, none of this is real, it can’t be real! It’s just a drea--” 

“ (Y/N),” came his voice from behind you. You stilled but you refused to open your eyes. You refused to _see_ , he couldn’t make you _see_ \-- 

“No,” you told him in a shaky voice. “Go away.” 

“You know it’s not gonna help if you keep fighting, right?” His voice sounded amused. It sent a chill down your spine. “It’s going to happen, whether you want it to or not.” 

“No,” you whispered, then louder, “ _No!_ It won’t! Get away from me, just go away, please, please just go away--” Your breath hitched on an almost desperate sob as it broke free from you. You pressed your hands over your eyes as if that might help to keep you from seeing. Your brain seemed to realize that was overkill, because they moved to your ears next, the better to block him out more thoroughly. _He’s not real_ , you thought to yourself wildly. _He’s not there and he’s not real and none of this is happening._ It’s a dream, a horrible nightmare brought on when Spencer had told you about the case the night before. Sometimes he did that, in the past, and you’d have horrible nightmares that you were one of the victims. That has to be what’s going on here. 

Abruptly a hand wrapped in your hair and jerked roughly, hauled you up and onto your feet. You were pulled up against a hard body and a kiss was pressed to your cheek. There’s a trace of a tongue slipped from between those chapped lips, and you sobbed again in disgust. You tried to fight free, but your body won’t cooperate how you want it to. It fought feebly where you’d rather it thrash and kick. Sharp pain stung across your face when he hit you, causing you to reel back. You only didn’t fall because his hand had shot out to catch you before you could. 

He released you when you finally managed to catch your bearing, his hand coming out to grip your shoulders and shove so you’d topple backward. This back and forth caused your head to be more muddled than before, your reactions sluggish. You fell to the ground, tears blurring your vision. You were not sure if it was for the pain from how you landed or if it’s from the entire situation. You sobbed before you can stop yourself, your teeth grasping your bottom lip fiercely to keep the sounds from increasing. You twisted and attempted to crawl away, but he followed along behind you. 

“You can’t get away,” he told you conversationally. He didn’t even sound upset anymore. Amusement had started to color his tone again. It was like he was entertained over the notion that you thought you could escape. “You’re mine,  (Y/N). He won’t find you in time. You’ll be mine until you die.” 

“No,” you whispered as you attempted to push yourself to your feet. Your knees wobbled and you crumpled back to the floor. You have to get away, away from this man, away from all the horror and everything else. Spencer will find you. He’ll find you in time, and… then he’ll… Your husband is part of the FBI. They’ll put this man away and he’ll never be able to hurt you again. You won’t ever have to face any of this again. You won’t-- 

“If you hadn’t told me you were pregnant,” he piped up from behind you, “then I wouldn’t have had to take you.” You freeze in place from shock and think over those words. 

“I told you that because--” 

“Because, secretly, you hoped I’d take you away. You want me. Admit it, (Y/N). You’ve always wanted me, but you were afraid to admit it. If you’d just say it aloud, if you’d just tell me yourself, it’d make everything so much _easier_.” 

“Go away,” you weakly whispered, shaking your head in an attempt to deny his words. They weren’t true. They’d never been true. You’d never felt that way about him before in your life. 

“You’re in denial,” he informed you. “That’s all.” 

“ _Just go away_ ,” you yelled at him before you could think twice about it. The words burst from your lips and you slammed your eyes closed as you shouted them. 

He kicked you right in the chest, and you choked on your scream. The pain burst into life within you and your eyes filled with more tears. How long had you been crying? You hadn’t even realized. You hadn’t felt them as they coursed down your cheeks. You coughed harshly and he laughed harder at you. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed some more. He laughed so much you didn’t think it’d ever end. 

You’d hear him laughing even in your grave. 

  
  


* * *

A scream greeted you upon waking. It didn’t stop as you opened your eyes. The fear was still in your body from the last fragments of your dream. It clung to you and hummed nervous energy in your veins. Spencer hovered over you, face pale in the dim light. His brown eyes were shadowed, dark circles more pronounced under his eyes. His hands went to your shoulders as he shook you lightly. Why was he shaking you? Why was his mouth moving, but you couldn’t hear--

“(Y/N),” Spencer panted as he shook you a little harder. “You’re okay! I’m here! It was just a dream.” 

Oh. You were the one who’d been screaming. 

At that realization it cut off and your mouth snapped closed. The tears in your eyes loosened and streaked down your face. You bit off a sob that threatened to break free from you regardless of whether you wanted it to or not. You reached your hands up to cover your face as the tears flowed faster. 

You laid like that, as you cried to yourself while Spencer ran his hands through your hair and pulled you slowly toward him. He did it so cautiously, so he wouldn’t startle you and to give you time to push him away if you wanted, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. You allowed it to happen, because you needed this, you needed _something_. Comfort, maybe, was what you really wanted. You wanted to know someone was there for you and cared about you, cherished you and wanted your pain to end. He pulled you gently into a seated position and maneuvered you until you could set your head against his chest. He cradled you against his body and you sniffled, hiccuping from your sobs. 

“It was just a dream,” he murmured into your hair as you finally calmed down enough that you weren’t so hysterical anymore. You still had tears drying sticky on your cheeks, but you’d quieted. You didn’t make much of a sound besides the occasional hitch in your shaky breathing. Spencer’s arms were still around you as he hugged you to him, as he rocked you back and forth in a soothing manner. You closed your eyes and wrapped your own arms around his neck and sighed. 

The silence stretched between you both for several long, drawn out moments as Spencer rubbed his hands gently up and down your back. His breath fluttered the hair near your ear and tickled your skin. You shivered and closed your eyes, tightening your grip around his neck so he wouldn’t think it’d been a bad reaction. “It was awful,” you finally said in a hoarse whisper. You kept your eyes closed. It gave you more strength to speak about your dream that way. The horror and panic of the dream still clung to you and you attempted to ignore it. “He.. he was just… he laughed at me, at my pain and fear. He just laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and-- He wouldn’t stop, Spencer. He just _laughed_.” Spencer’s arms tightened even more around you and clutched you harder to him. It was almost hard enough that you had trouble sucking in more breaths, but you didn’t mind until you began to feel woozy from air loss. 

You pushed against him and pulled back enough so that your eyes could peer up into Spencer’s own. You attempted to give him a wobbly, watery smile. “I’m sorry,” you said as you swiped an arm across your eyes. “I woke you up, huh?” 

“It’s fine,” he assured you as he continued to study your face. His eyes roved over it as if trying to make sure you weren’t going to burst into tears again. “I don’t mind. I wasn’t sleeping very well anyway.” 

You didn’t ask him why he hadn’t slept very well. You knew, as you glanced up at him again, he’d been worried about you and couldn’t fall asleep. You frowned harder as you glanced back down at your hands in your lap, weakly folded there and useless. You breathed regularly in through your mouth and out through your nose, hoping it would help get your heart rate under control. You took in one last deep breath and, finally, looked back up at Spencer. You gave him a more convincing smile this time. “I’m okay now,” you assured him. You laughed a moment later; it was weak and fragile, but it was still real, a true laugh nonetheless. “Really, I’m better now.” 

“You’re not,” he told you, his eyes solemn. 

You stared at him for several long moments, your eyes connected with his own, and you frowned at him. “You’re right,” you replied. “I’m not.” 

Not much more sleep was had that night. 

  
  


* * *

“Spencer,” you said as you stopped packing your bag, biting your lower lip. “I don’t want to go to my dad’s. I could go back to work and actually be _useful_ \--”

“(Y/N),” Spencer said on the tail end of a weary sigh. You’d both been arguing about this for most of the morning. “You’re not off leave for another week. You have to rest, okay? It’s better for you and the baby if you take it easy, at least for the rest of this week.” 

You noticed Spencer had worse bags under his eyes than he had in the past few weeks since you’d woken him up from your initial nightmare. Sure, he’d normally have them under his eyes (it’s something you’ve seen in the few memories you’ve regained), but not as dark and shadowed as he had them right now. He must have been worried about you a lot as of late, you realized, and you frowned at him as you nod slowly in response. 

“Okay,” you agreed finally. You turned and plucked up the bag you’d just finished packing. He’d been helping you pick out what you’d need, mostly because you still weren’t sure what to do with yourself on your own. Spencer would drive you over to your dad’s house, then turn around and drive _all_ the way back to work. You said you’d call your dad and ask him to pick you up, but Spencer insisted that he could drive you. Obviously he’d just wanted to make sure you reached there safely, and you couldn’t really blame him. You would have been half tempted to sneak away if left to your own devices, to go to work anyway and beg to be put back on a case. You were a grown woman; they couldn’t keep you somewhere you didn’t want to be, after all. Ultimately, however, you’d decided to go along with Spencer’s plans so he’d feel more at ease while he was away on the case. 

Spencer opened the door for you and stepped back to allow you to exit the house. You did so with your eyes glued to the ground ahead of you. Your husband walked along behind you, after he’d closed and locked the door, then opened your car door for you too. He’d been so sweet to you ever since you’d returned home, especially more caring and gentle after the nightmare you’d had the other night. You’d woken him up with your screaming, but he’d been nothing but understanding and calm, soothing. People had heard, of of course, and called the cops, so Spencer had had to get up and explain what the disturbance had been. Just a nightmare, he’d assured the police, and you were both very sorry for disturbing the quiet of the neighborhood. They’d left after giving you one final glance over, as if they’d thought Spencer had been abusing you. You’d stared them down with a furrow between your brows, your arms wrapped around yourself like it would make you impervious to their judgments. 

Needless to say, you’d gotten very little sleep after that. 

The drive took awhile. Your father must live on the outskirts of town, because it took almost twenty minutes driving on deserted roads before you got there. You quietly looked out of your window at the unfamiliar sights along the way. You felt a twinge in your gut, which told you that you’d been here before, that it was once all familiar to you, but otherwise you couldn’t place any of the things as they passed by. They did feel vaguely familiar, though, like you were having a strong sense of deja vu. “Spencer, where’d I grow up?” 

“You’d lived at your father’s current house since you were fifteen, until you’d been accepted into college,” Spencer told you softly as he stared at the road ahead. He drove calmly and maneuvered through traffic, but you knew he was thinking back on what you’d probably previously told him about your life. “Before that… I think you lived in another state. North Carolina, maybe? I can’t recall. You could ask your dad today.” 

“Oh,” you mumbled as you scrunched up your face in thought. You tried to remember any of the things he’d just told you, but nothing jumped out at you. Suddenly a thought crystallized and you blurted, “It was a yellow house.” 

Spencer flicked his eyes over to you for a moment and a small smile came to his lips. “You’re right,” he told you. “I’ve seen pictures of the house. It was yellow.” 

You smiled at him and then turned your gaze back out the window. Spencer soon pulled up in front of a dark house, with even darker shutters over the windows. You peered up at it curiously. Spencer hopped out and walked around to open your door for you, and you grimaced as you attempted to stand up. Your body still ached a lot and you’d feel odd twinges whenever you moved too quickly. The curb here was higher than the one at your own home, and it made you have to lift your leg even further which made your body twist oddly and your ribs to ache. Spencer placed his hands on your hips to help steady you and gently guided you toward the front door. He kept his eye trained on you to make sure you didn’t stumble as you both moved towards the front door. He seemed worried you were in too much pain after you’d winced, but you managed a small smile to try and soothe his worries. The anxiety that shadowed his eyes, however, didn’t leave even with your smile. The poor guy was going to have a panic attack if he wasn’t careful, he looked so worried about you and anxious. 

“ (Y/N),” came a deep voice from the doorway, which you hadn’t noticed had opened. A man with the same eyes as you stood in the opened entry, gray hair now instead of whatever color it used to be and a calm gaze in his eyes. You stared up at him and hoped you’d get some flicker of recognition, some part of you to realize who he was, but nothing came. There was nothing. This could have been any other man and if you’d passed him on the street, you wouldn’t have known who he was, similar eyes be damned. “Do you remember me, (Nickname)?” 

You frowned even harder as you tilted your head a bit. You looked helplessly at Spencer for a moment, but he seemed just as curious as your father was. You attempted to grab onto _something_ , some memory you must have of this man, but they danced just out of your grasp. You sighed as you gave up. Nothing would come forward. You shook your head and you could see the pain that flashed across your father’s face for a moment, but he doesn’t push the subject. “Doesn’t matter,” he told you as he reached out and took your bag from you. He took up your left side, since your husband refused to let go of your right and you all entered the house. 

Your father didn’t even look at Spencer, to be honest. He seemed intent on ignoring him completely. You glanced at Spencer with a raised brow, but he frowned and shook his head. He didn’t want you to ask the question that had brimmed up within you. A vague feeling-- _your father had never liked Spencer, had always disliked him, even from the very first moment they’d met_ \-- overcame you and you felt dizzy after it left you. Regaining any sort of memories always left you a bit unsure and unsteady on your feet. 

Why did your father dislike Spencer though? Spencer was so sweet and he’d been a steady rock at your side since you’d been released from the hospital, practically since you’d woken up _in_ the hospital. You didn’t even have your memories and you could tell that Spencer was so sweet. There was nothing you could really hate about him. What was it that your father disliked so much about your husband? 

“You can go now,” your father told Spencer gruffly as he narrowed his eyes at the young man. “I’ve got her from here and she won’t come to any harm in _my_ care.” 

Spencer flinched, but nodded his head quickly. He lenaed over to press a kiss to your cheek. You blinked in surprise as you watched him quietly leave. Your father moved to close the door, but you caught it before he could. You wanted to watch as your husband left. It had been only two weeks since you’d woken up without your memories, but already you could feel a connection with Spencer reestablishing itself. You watched as he started up the car and drove away, before you sighed softly to yourself and shut the door. You turned to face your father with a frown on your face. “What was that about?” you asked. 

“What was what about?” your father replied. He started to walk into the living room, apparently not even worried about how hostilely he’d just treated his son-in-law. You trailed along after him, glancing at the pictures on the wall as you passed down the hallway and into the living room. There was a young woman in wedding finery, with  (h/c) hair and different eyes than yours, who stood next to your father. Well, a much, much younger version of your father, but still your father nonetheless. That must have been your mother then. 

She was dead, you remembered that much at least, but you’re not sure how she’d died. You turned your eyes back to your father as he seated himself in the chair next to the couch. You took a perch on the couch and placed your chin atop your hand, elbow balanced on the arm of the couch. 

“You don’t like Spencer, do you?” 

“We’ve already been over this--” He seemed to catch himself and the realization dawned across his face. “Oh, wait, of course you wouldn’t know. You don’t… remember.” Your father considered at you curiously before he turned away and frowned at the television. “Let’s not talk about it right now, (Y/N), okay? I have some old videos I’d wanted to show you. Do you want to watch them?” 

You nodded and stared after him as he got up to retrieve the videos. You’d get to the bottom of this, no matter what your father said about not wanting to talk about it. You wanted to know what had happened to make your father dislike Spencer so much, when all he’d ever been to you was kind. There must be some reason there. You just had to find out what it was. 

“I dug these up after that fool of a husband of yours told me you’d lost your memories,” your father said as he walked back into the room with a box of VHS tapes. Your eyes lingered on them for a moment as your heart increased in speed. Those videos held memories, or they could even hold the key to unlocking more memories inside of your head. You could feel the anticipation hum in your veins and roll over your skin as you waited for your father to pop the first tape into the VCR. 

He did it so slowly, half distracted by his own continuous mutters about your _fool of a husband_. You tuned out what he said in favor of watching the blank TV screen with interest. He looked at Spencer in a completely different light than you did. So far Spencer had been helpful and understanding, helping you with everything you needed, being there for each step in the process and answering any silly questions you had. He held you when you cried and anything else you needed from him. He was smart and charming and so adorable sometimes you just wished you could reach out and hug him tightly to you without making it awkward. 

You supposed it wouldn’t be awkward for him, anyway, because the two of you were married and he _remembered_ that, but… still. Your father judged him so harshly-- not to mention _unfairly_ \-- because he didn’t know him like you did, or there was some silly reason he disliked him. The reason itself was probably petty to boot. Your father seemed like the type to hold a grudge for no good reason. 

The screen flickered to life finally, and the tape began to play. You leaned forward eagerly in your chair, anticipation built to a crescendo in your brain. The video flickered to life and you saw a child version of you with a thumb stuck in your mouth. You stood in the middle of the room in a white dress and you jostled your finger about in your mouth. Her eyes were trained on the camera that someone had started, and the person filming took a step closer and shifted the camera so that it was more on your level. It zoomed in on your face and you could definitely tell that it was you when you were younger. All the details you’d seen in the mirror the last two weeks were there, but shifted around differently on such a smaller person. There was a roundness to your face that hinted that you still held onto your baby fat, and your hair was to your shoulders, curled sweetly at the ends so that it framed your face. There was a large smudge of dirt on your cheek, which showed you’d been out in the yard earlier and had probably fallen down. You must have been forced into the pristine white dress afterward. 

You stared blankly at the camera, eyes huge in your face, and as the real time you watched you could see the child you drop her mouth partially open. Your thumb fell away from your mouth as she stared in wonder or surprise at the camera as well as the person holding it. There was no emotion on your face; you looked like you weren’t sure how to react to this camera coming closer toward you. “Say hello, (Y/N),” cooed a female voice from off camera. Your mother, you realized with a jolt. That was your mother’s voice! You remembered her voice suddenly, the clarity of the memory rushing back to you, the sweet way she’d smile at you as she spoke, the glitter in her eyes that showed she was so full of life. Right now her voice was warm and gentle, coaxing you out of your shell shocked state. Her voice conveyed how much she loved you, how much she absolutely adored you, how you were her whole world. 

You continued to stare at the camera in shocked silence. Your mother took another step forward, slowly, probably so she wouldn’t startle you. “Come on, baby,” she said with a light laugh on the end. “Say hello! We’re going to send this to Nana. You want to say hi to Nana, right? You _love_ your Nana, honey!” 

She took one more small step closer to you. You could see your eyes widen in the video and you took a shaky, wobbly step backward. The big camera your mom lugged around to record with had scared you, you remembered now. Your mother stepped forward again and, in that instant, your face crumbled. Tears sprang to your eyes and you opened your mouth so you could let out a loud, horrible wail. The hands at your side fisted themselves in your dress as you threw your head back and screamed shrilly. 

“Scary!” you yelled as you raised a hand to point at the camera your mom had focused on you. You continued to scream as you turned and fled, so you could run as fast your tiny, chubby legs could carry you. 

“Honey!” your mom yelled after you, but you wouldn’t pause to look back at her. You barrelled full speed further into the house, screeching and yelling for your father to come save you. The screen went black a moment later. 

“Always did get scared easy,” your dad rumbled beside you before he got up to change the tape. 

The next video was of you in a tutu. You’d been a strange child, apparently, because you’d loved wearing tutus frequently growing up. “You’d never even taken a dancing class,” your dad informed you. You even remembered having a bunch of different color tutus. You’d dance around in a circle and pretend to be a ballerina, and your mother would cheer and clap her hands as she recorded you. You’d beam at the camera and, after you’d stopped and faced the camera head on, even did a perfect curtsy toward it. 

After that video was one of you in a bathtub. You’d been splashing about and yelling to the camera about killer squids attacking the boat you’d been pushing through the waves of the tub. The one after that had you naked, as you pushed around a plastic shopping cart, as you spoke to a dolly about what corn you should buy. Next you’d almost completed making a snowman with your father and another kid from the neighborhood, one you’d been best friends with, your dad informed you. You’d had an oversized football helmet on your head the entire time and your best friend kept throwing snowballs at the back of it. After that you’d been running through some sprinklers, shrieking in glee and waving wildly to the camera. 

There were so _many_ videos to watch. It was obvious to you that your mother had loved her camera. She always seemed to be filming you and your father. There was one video where you’d been a supporting role in your elementary school play. Another where you’d tried-- and failed spectacularly-- to play a flute, then the piano, then the harmonica. It was obvious you just couldn’t carry a tune to save your life, but that hadn’t stopped you from trying. 

After that last one, however, came a huge time skip between videos. One moment you were a happy, rambunctious ten-year-old, and then the next you were a sweet, smiling eighteen-year-old. You furrowed your brows as you looked from the television to your father. What had happened to the videos in between? Had he accidentally skipped some? This video was one where you’d graduated high school. Surely there’d been others that had been misplaced or lost over time. You opened your mouth to ask your father, but he beat you to it. 

“Your mother died a few weeks before you turned eleven,” he explained quietly. 

“Oh,” you whispered in reply. You turned back to stare at the TV instead of at his calm, blank face. You watched as the you on the television accepted her diploma for graduating and shook the principal’s hand. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at your father again for several moments as you processed this news. 

“She was the only one who taped everything,” he went on to add and, when you finally glanced at him again, he shrugged. “I took a few pictures, but that’s about it. I’m not very good with a tape recorder. Never have been. My hands are too shaky to hold it steady while shooting, so I never really saw much use for it, really.” 

“I see.” You turned your eyes back to the TV again. You really wanted to press him for more information. How did your mother die? What had happened once she was gone? Did he never consider remarrying? Did he ever date anyone else after? You didn’t feel like you should ask any of those, however, not yet, not right now. You’d wait to ask later. You weren’t sure you’d be ready to ask all those questions and hear their answers just yet. 

“Ah!” Your father snapped his fingers and held up a video tape. It caught your attention and made you turn your eyes back toward him to see what he’d found. From here you could see its label read _(Y/N) ’s Wedding_ all in capitals and red sharpie on the front. You sat up quickly, suddenly completely interested in what he’d found. 

Your father watched you from the corner of his eye with a knowing look, though a frown was around the edges of his lips. He wasn’t pleased he’d made a sound aloud to show he’d found this one then. He must have not wanted you to see it? Though why that would be, you couldn’t fathom. 

Before you could ask him to play it, however, the phone rang. He got to his feet and bolted for the hallway. You blinked after him with a confused and curious look on your face. Why did it seem like he really didn’t want you to watch that video? What harm could possibly come from you seeing your very own wedding? You attempted to mull this over, to figure out what it was your father wanted to hide, but nothing came to your mind. 

“That husband of yours is almost here,” your father grumbled as he re-entered the room. He sat down in his armchair and switched over to the news. It seemed you both were done with the videos now. You’d spent the better part of the entire day watching them after all. A marathon of memories you could only vaguely sense or recall, a weird feeling of deja vu that told you they _had_ happened, though you couldn’t recall them on your own. He kept his eyes trained on the news and didn’t say another word, even though you continued to frown at him for a few more minutes before you finally looked away. 

You hadn’t failed to notice that your wedding video had vanished after he had reappeared in the room however.  
  


* * *

“How’d you like spending time with your father?” Spencer asked as you both buckled up in the car. He’d already started it up and put it into drive, but he waited until you were settled before he started to drive. It was dark out-- you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten until now-- and Spencer looked weary, his voice even carried a sense of bone tiredness that weighed him down. He must have raced against the clock for that missing woman.

“How long does he keep them?” you asked instead. You’d parried his question with your own, mostly because you didn’t want to talk about your father right now. Also there was a part of you that was morbidly curious to know what kind of clock Spencer was racing against. You’d taken him away from his important search for the missing woman. You couldn’t just let that go. You knew that it was selfish of you to steal him away from helping his team find her. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye and frowned. 

“Garcia told you?” He looked more weary than before, but resigned to the fact that you knew, one way or another. You nodded in reply. “He keeps them for four days.” 

Your gut wrenched. She only had two more days. You stared out the window for a long while, chewing anxiously on your lower lip. Were you being really selfish by wanting Spencer to stay with you? So that you wouldn’t be alone? You’d be keeping Spencer to yourself while that woman was out there, her time slowly ticking away, running out. 

“Drop me off at home,” you said, “and then go back to the team.” You forced the words out from between leaden lips. Dread curled in your gut over being left alone, but you’d have to deal with that eventually. This way, at least, Spencer could help find that poor missing woman. 

“(Y/N)\--” 

“No,” you said and shook your head. “Really, Spencer, I’ll be okay. I need to face my fears eventually and you need to help your team find that girl. That means that I need to face my fears now, rather than later, because that would help the most people.” 

Spencer frowned at you as he parked the car in front of the house. “I don’t want to leave you all alone. I know I should go help the team, but… I need to stay with you. I don’t want you to have to face this alone.” He reached out and took your hand in his own so he could squeeze it lightly. 

“You have to.” You didn’t leave any room for argument. You made sure your voice sounded extremely determined. Looking at him from where you’re seated, you tilted your hand so you could grip his hand, which was still over yours. He stared back, for two long minutes, and his lips twisted into a frown. He seemed to mull over what you’d said, probably trying to figure out what decision he should make. He definitely doesn’t like it, that much is clear, but eventually he nodded. 

“You’re right. I need to help find her,” he finally agreed. He sighed and twined your fingers together before he slowly pulled them away. 

“There’s the man I fell in love with!” You said it before you could think over the words and you leaned forward so you could seal the statement with a kiss.


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally getting off my butt to edit and write this next update.
> 
> So pretty much I'm really shitty at updating? That's the only explanation I have. There's just _so much_ I have to rework and rewrite for this story to actually have it be up to par for my current standards. lol But don't worry! I will never forget about any of my stories. I promise they're always in my thoughts and I have no intention of abandoning this story. 
> 
> Also, I'd just like everyone to know that this story was originally written while season six was airing. So there had been no Maeve at that point. I don't reference her at all. It makes me sad, actually, cause I kind of wish I could have written this around that time? It would have been fun, you know, to toy with that plot. However, I hadn't even watched season eight until literally this week, so. If I wanted to add that in, I'd have to rework the previous chapters and I just don't feel like it. 
> 
> I'll just eventually write _another_ story where I can mess around with Maeve and her storyline! (Also I miss her. I think she was precious. Poor Spencer. This guy deserves SO MUCH FLUFF, i'm so sorry spencer omfg) 
> 
> Anyway, without any further ado, I hope you enjoy this update. This has been self beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.  <3

The moment was frozen as Spencer’s body tensed. The two of you hadn’t kissed in almost a month. It was obvious he realized he had to take it slow. One wrong move and you’d shy away from him, would possibly shatter what little chance he might have at making you both stay together. Gently, he moved one hand up to cup your face and kissed you back softly. It was several moments before you seemed to realize what you’d been doing.

You pulled away with a blush on your cheeks and looked off to the side, out your car door’s window. You could feel the heat suffuse your cheeks and you tried to ignore it. “Uhm,” you said and fidgeted, as a hand came up to press two fingers against your lips. Spencer certainly knew just how to kiss you to take your breath away. You supposed you should have realized that. You two _were_ married, after all. Your heart beat a heavy beat in your chest and you felt a little woozy from the uneven way you’d started to breathe after the kiss. 

You placed your hand on the doorknob, but your eyes swiveled to Spencer and locked with his own. He stared calmly back at you with a small smile hinting at the corner of his lips. “Be safe,” you told him and then made yourself open the car door. You knew if you didn’t do it now then you’d find reasons to stall. Spencer had to get back to the team sooner rather than later. The dread reared its ugly head in your stomach again as your feet touched solid ground beneath you. You had no excitement for the long night stretched out before you, all alone in the house without anyone else to keep you company. 

“I love you,” Spencer called before you could close the door. You paused and turned to look at him again. You chewed on your lower lip. You knew he loved you. It was obvious by the way he acted around you, the gentle way he touched you and spoke to you day in and day out. What were you supposed to say in reply? You knew that you’d loved him before you’d lost your memories, but that was a part of you that you no longer had. It had been obvious to you, even without your memories, that you had loved Spencer wholeheartedly. You’d wanted to spend the rest of your life with the man, had married him and gotten a house with him, had even wanted to start a family together! But... you were a different person than you were from back then. You weren’t sure _what_ you felt right now. You needed time; time to think, time to process everything, time to consider your options and what you would do from here. 

“I know,” you told him softly through partially numb lips. It was hard to move them when you felt a sharp pain in your chest just from not being able to reciprocate the words. You stared into his eyes and saw the understanding there. You shut the car door before anything more could be said. Spencer watched you for another moment, a frown on his lips as he thought hard about something, then he started the car and slowly pulled away from the curb. You watched as he drove off down the street until you couldn’t even see the taillights anymore, then you turned toward the house. 

You dug your hand into your jean’s pocket and fished out the keys Spencer had given you. He’d said they were your own set. You headed up the sidewalk toward the front door. You stared at the dark house with a worried, slightly fearful gaze as you approached. Now was better than later to face your fear of being alone, you figured. You slid the key into the lock and opened the front door as you stepped inside. The house was silent and dark. It was a lot quieter than you’d expected it to be, actually. It was nerve wracking, standing here in the front entryway and staring into the darkness ahead of you. It really freaked you out, truth be told. It felt like anything could be in those dark depths and you wouldn’t know it. You wouldn’t know it until it was too late. Your heart beat a mile a minute as you closed the door behind you and locked it. After that, you wandered into the living room to switch on a light. The ticking of the clock on the wall, but that was the only noise you could hear from the house around you. 

The light finally flickered on as you found the switch on the wall. You glanced around the room nervously. The TV stood in the corner of the room and you supposed that was as good of a place to start as any. You could watch some television and fill the house with some sort of soothing background noise. The thought, however, didn’t appeal to you. You wander aimlessly around the house and flicked on lights as you go, glancing into alcoves and other rooms, trying to find something to entertain you. You also check all the windows and doors to make sure they’re locked, just to settle your already frazzled nerves. Being all by yourself made you feel paranoid and too small for this large house. It felt weird, finally being alone without anyone there to keep you company. You hadn’t been alone since… well, without your memories, who knew how long? Since before the horrible nightmare that was the reason you’d lost your memories. 

You opened a door at the end of the main hall, the one across from your bedroom with Spencer, and delight zipped through you. It was a kind of home office, with two desks and bookshelves! One desk was clearly Spencer’s-- you could tell because of the _kinds_ of books that were placed upon it-- which meant that the other one would be your own. You wandered over to stand next to Spencer’s and look over its contents curiously. You felt a little guilty doing it, but… you were married! You were allowed to be curious about aspects of Spencer’s life you couldn’t remember anymore. 

There were a few case files on top, which you set aside because they didn’t interest you. You weren’t in the mood to read about cases, mostly because you knew it wouldn’t help your paranoia right now. There were also some empty sugar packets, which actually made a smile break out across your face. You plucked them up and grumbled lightly-- though it was fond kind of complaining-- and threw them away for him. It warmed you to be able to remember something so light hearted, something like Spencer using too much sugar in his coffee. 

You turned to look at your own desk. There was a highly maintained older desktop there, along with a three monitor setup. It looked much like the equipment Garcia had in her office when you’d been there. Spencer had told you that you were a tech analyst for another Unit, but you hadn’t remembered much about your job, so you hadn’t thought about it. As you looked at this computer, however, there was a spark of _something_ in the back of your mind. You pulled out the chair and seated yourself at the desk. There was an anime figure set off to the side-- _Garcia had given it to you for Christmas one year, the very first year after you’d started dating Spencer_ \-- and there were some stray papers laid about on the top of the desk. There was an unlabeled disk set in front of the anime figure, which you plucked up to look at more closely. The CD was pristine-- no scratches anywhere-- but there was nothing around to identify what it contained. You’d have to remember to look later, maybe. You were intent on going through your home computer, because you probably kept some videos or other personal things here, rather than the laptop you probably used when you were out and about. You booted up your computer and, while waiting for it to come to life, you opened one of your desk drawers. There were two large drawers on the side, and one above where you’d tuck your legs under the desk. 

The bottom large drawer you opened contained two encyclopedias, a pocket dictionary and some stray papers with notes on cases jotted down. Obviously you’d never gotten around to organizing or filing them away one last time, so you’d shoved them into your drawer. You sighed and, after you shoved things around one last time to make sure you hadn’t missed anything, you shut that drawer to go to the second one. Opening it revealed a bunch of VHS tapes with dates on them as labels. You furrowed your brows as you slid one out of the drawer and turned it over in your hands to study it. What were all of these? 

A little musical jingle filled the air as you computer finished booting up. You jumped in surprise and dropped the video tape back into its drawer on accident. You lost interest in it for now anyway, since your computer was up and running. You slide the drawer shut and figured you’d go back to it later when you were done searching through your computer’s files. You were more interested in what you could find on your computer right now anyway. It took no time at all to unlock the thing. You’d already figured out the password scheme you favored, with a little tickle in the back of your head. You reached out and grasped the mouse, going through folders and subfolders. You furrowed your brow as you searched, but then smiled when you realized you were actually really neat and organized. Everything had its own special place and everything was labelled with descriptions or titles that informed you what they were without having to dig further. 

It took little to no time to realize you had quite a few videos on the computer, as well as some pictures and even a little Word document that held a diary. The diary didn’t have too much, just some ideas or thoughts that you’d wanted to write down a day or two a week. “Jackpot,” you said to yourself when you’d found these files. These would definitely help you! It was exactly what you’d hoped you’d find when you stumbled into the home office. You looked around a bit more, but beside some really old fiction stories you’d wrote while bored, there wasn’t much else to be found. You went back to the diary first and reopened it to read. 

You scanned through it quickly until you got to the very last entry, which had been made the morning you’d been abducted. Your heart beat faster in anticipation as you reach that section. This could hold some key, something to make you realize who’d taken you! You quickly read through the words, mouth dry from nerves, and you held your breath as you did so. You’d talked about how you had just taken the pregnancy test, after Spencer had left for work, and it was positive. You’d said you were going to go pick up some food from the store so you could cook a special dinner tonight, and then you’d make the announcement after the meal. You’d been so sure Spencer would be excited, even though you both hadn’t planned or talked about having one anytime soon. Not that either of you hadn’t wanted children, but that it just hadn’t been planned out to happen quite so soon. You wrote in a happy tone through the whole entry-- the words you’d chosen definitely conveyed happiness and excitement-- about the plans that would be made and decided upon for the coming child. You talked mostly about how you hoped you’d be a good mother, and how to make it happy, so that it wouldn’t ever lack in anything. 

That was it. There was nothing else mentioning if you planned on meeting up with someone-- the someone who’d later abduct you. You must have bumped into him purely by coincidence then. You must have known him well, even, at one point, if you’d told him you were pregnant. Who could you have possibly trusted enough to tell that you were pregnant before you’d even told your husband? Obviously he hadn’t known Spencer, because you hadn’t been worried about him spilling the beans to Spencer before you were ready. Or perhaps he did know him, but you were quite sure he wouldn’t say anything too soon. Did you even have any male friends? Were there even any guys you hung out with right now? 

You sighed and placed a hand to your forehead as you pushed yourself away from the computer. A headache was beginning to form right behind your eyes. All of the thinking, puzzling and wondering had started to make you ache with weariness. Maybe you should go to bed. Suddenly your body cried for you to lay down in your comfortable bed, close your eyes and just drift off to sleep. That sounded so nice right now, like heaven on earth, and you heaved a deeper sigh as you got to your feet. You reached over to turn your computer off and straighten the stuff on your desktop one last time. Yeah, that did sound like a good idea. You’d go to sleep, rest up and then start the day with a fresh mind. 

As you switched off the lights and made your way back to the bedroom-- intent on getting changed and falling asleep in your warm bed-- you just hoped that the nightmares would stay away for the night. You didn't want any more strange dreams. Just a blackness behind your eyes, an abyss that would wrap you up in its warm cocoon and keep you from your darker memories. You were too tired to have nightmares about your captor. For tonight, at least, you didn't want any answers to come to you. You just wanted a blanket of peace to settle over your mind and let you rest undisturbed. 

That would be for the best. 

  
  


* * *

A soft creak sounded somewhere above you. You lived in a one story home. The thought brought you up short, and you squinted your eyes at the ceiling. There shouldn’t be a way for someone to reach up there. There was no second floor or attic, no easy way to climb atop the roof. You glanced to your side and found you were sprawled on the ground, in a dusty room that was most decidedly _not_ located in your home.

The room was dusty, with no furnishings, and you were sprawled on a wooden floor that was icy to the touch. Your eyes studied your surroundings as you attempted to place where you were. You had no memories of this room or how you had come to be here. Nothing came to you as you wracked your thoughts. Where were you? You weren’t at home, where you had fallen asleep. You were somewhere… else. 

Slowly, you climbed to your feet and pushed your hair away from your eyes. You attempted to settle your whirling thoughts so you could figure out what was going on. You moved sluggishly toward the door and pulled it open, with no resistance, so you could peek into the hallway beyond. There was no one there, and the floor was caked in even more dust than was located in the room you’d awoken in. Footprints were etched into it like impressions in snow, leading further down the hall and out of sight. They vanished through a door at the very opposite end of the hall. 

As if summoned by your mere thoughts, the door began to creak open on its own. It eerily slid open without a sound and revealed no one within. There was no one there opening it to you. It was as if it acted on its own free will. Perhaps some air from the hallway had brushed against it and caused it to open? Your brain wanted to latch onto any reasoning that would help ease the uneasy lurching in your stomach. 

After a brief pause, where you argued internally with your own subconscious, you stepped out into the hallway. There was really no way around it. No windows were located in the room behind you, and this was the only door that led elsewhere. You would _have_ to follow it to an exit. Slowly, you approached the door before you and refused to acknowledge the prickling sensation that creeped up your spine and the back of your neck. You reached the door with no hindrances and grasped it, so you could pull it fully open and peer inside. 

Your heart beat a mile a minute and made you feel suffocated, as your breathing picked up to match its pace. You felt as if you might faint on the spot, though you fought bravely to prevent it. You had to be strong enough to survive this, whatever it was, so you could get out, get away. You had to get away. You swallowed, hard, and attempted to get yourself under control. You ignored the cold sweat that had begun to break out over your body, that caused gooseflesh to prickle across your skin. 

Briefly, you closed your eyes to gather the vestiges of your strength. Once you opened them again, however, a white flash blinded you. You raised a hand to cover your eyes and squinted painfully against the glare. You gasped in surprise before you could help it, the sound echoing in your own ears from the silence that surrounded you. Slowly, so slowly, you allowed your hands to fall away so you could see around you again. You blinked owlishly in surprise. 

It was a baby’s room. Or… it _was_ a baby’s room. It was ancient, now, with dust covering everything. The crib was decrepit and left to decay, the paint peeling from the old wood. You took another step further into the room, and walked towards the crib with dread creating a lead weight in the pit of your stomach. A teddy bear gazed up at you from within the crib, one eye removed and the other dull with grime. You reached out and brushed a finger against its matted fur, pulling your finger away to see that dust now caked your skin. Everything was so old. Where were the owners? What had happened, and why had you woken up here? 

There was a creaking noise from behind you, which caused you to whirl to face it. A rocking chair moved on its own, as if someone still sat upon it and helped it to move slowly. You placed a hand over your racing heart, breathing through your nose to even your gasps for air. There was a door in the corner of the room, you noticed as your eyes left the rocking chair. You hadn’t noticed it before. You walked towards it as if in a daze, your feet gliding over the grimy hardwood. The knob turned easily in your hands, as if still well oiled, and the door didn’t even make a noise as it moved along its tracks to permit you into the next part of the house. 

Another hallway, you realized. How large was this house? Hallway after hallway, rooms that made no sense in the placement of the house. You stepped out of the nursery and headed down the hall, no other choice in the matter but to continue to push forward. There was another door at the end of _this_ hallway, one that you made a direct beeline for without much choice. Your heart’s thudding beat echoed in your ears as you rasped for breath. Something behind that door-- it caused your nerves to spike and be more on edge than before. 

It seemed almost like no time at all before you opened the next door. You did it quickly, like a band aid that you’d psyched yourself up to rip off as quickly as possible. Your eyes were drawn to the large bed in the middle of the room, a lump under the sheets that chilled your blood in its veins. It looked like a body, a dead body, hidden underneath the blankets, away from prying eyes. Perhaps it was someone asleep? They might be able to tell you why you were here. 

You ignored the screaming nerves that cried out for you to _run_. They had no place here. 

You walked forward until you were within reach and jerked the sheets away. You wanted to know who was under there. Your hand shook as you let the blankets slip from your fingers. There was _nothing_. You looked wildly about, but the room was now empty. Nothing was beneath the sheets. Whatever body had been there before, it was gone, without a trace. 

The door slammed shut behind you. You turned too fast and nearly tripped over your own limbs, gasping and your breathing ragged. Nothing was there. The door was now pressed firmly shut and there was no trace as to who did it. Your fingers pressed into the skin of your face from where they clasped over your mouth, your heart in your throat, your eyes wide and searching. 

“Welcome home,” came a rasping voice from the bed. 

Every single nerve in your body locked up. You froze and your fingers twitched feebly. You knew, with the assurance of failing memory that refused to assist you, that you did not want to turn back to the bed. It would be better if you didn’t see what lay against those sheets. With a certainty born of past mistakes, however, you also realized you would _have_ to. 

That was how it had played out before. Differently than this dream, perhaps, but it had happened all the same. Your punishment, you supposed, for having such cruel luck was that now you had to live with the consequences. 

Your eyes wavered but your body went on autopilot and turned, slowly, to face the bed again. Your heart lurched and a scream built in your throat, your hand turning into a claw as it dropped to your throat. It broke free with a terrible force and tears sprung to your eyes as horror washed through you. There was a _body_ , a dead body, a woman and she was smiling up at you chillingly from where she sprawled on the bed. 

A wobbly step backward nearly upended you and caused you to sprawl on the ground, but you managed to catch your balance at the last moment. Your hands rose to cover your face as you screamed, and screamed, and continued to scream into eternity. This _had_ to be a dream, dear God, please let it be a _dream_ , please someone _wake you up_ , you couldn’t-- 

A clammy hand laid itself upon your skin and you opened your eyes to gaze into glassy, cloudy ones, cracked lips as the smile stretched impossibly further, and a haunting voice repeated, “welcome home, (Y/N).” 

You closed your eyes tightly, as a new voice reached your ears. “Welcome home,” he had said with a twisted smile. “Welcome home,” he had repeated again as he dragged you across the floor, your legs kicking and your voice screaming for help. No help had come. 

“Welcome home,” he’d said a third time, hours later, once your voice had finally given out. He’d kissed you on the neck and you had tried-- _you had_ \-- to squirm away, but whatever drug he’d stuck you with earlier had made you sluggish and your movements weak. 

“Welcome home,” he had whispered, as if it was also a farewell, as he’d left you locked up in that room for another night. 

The words were poison. They slid into your mind and they ate away at everything, made you dry heave when nothing was left to spill upon the dirty, old floor. It chipped away at your sanity and tilted your world off kilter, made you close your eyes and whisper inane things to yourself all to block them out. This wasn’t real, it wasn’t, Spencer would come for you, he’d find you and he’d save you-- 

It couldn’t stop them. They echoed in your head so fiercely they drowned out everything else. Your hands flattened over your ears countless times, but nothing could blot them out. Spencer would find you, you’d remind yourself. He’d whisper as many sweet things as it would take to erase this, or at least to help you heal from the terror. You just had to believe in him. You just had to have faith he’d find you. 

You couldn’t understand what he meant by them. Welcome home? What was so important about those words that he kept saying them? Still, he persisted. He returned the next day and slid his fingers gently through your hair. You cringed away and his grip in your hair tightened to the point of pain. “You’re home now, (Nickname),” he said softly, almost soothing. “There’s no need to cry anymore. He placed a chaste kiss to your cheek and you winced, disgusted. You didn’t try to pull away, however, because at this point you’d learned that lesson painfully. His hand would land a hard blow into your solar plexus, wind you, and then he’d grip your hair to drag you struggling across the floor. 

“Don’t look so blue,” he whispered with that same smirk on his lips, the one that would haunt you to your grave. “You’re loved here. That’s all you ever wanted, (Y/N), isn’t it?” You didn’t respond. What was the point? Your words would fall on deaf ears. “Tomorrow will be the day,” he murmured as his fingers trailed down the side of your face, gentle and teasing. They skimmed to your neck and lower, continued to explore as you closed your eyes and tried to block out the sensation. “Tomorrow no one else will ever be able to take you away from me again.” 

Tomorrow, however, would never come. He never returned to that dirty, grimy room while you were still there. However, he was like a ghost, hovering just on the edge of your mind. He was always around the next corner, his presence teasing your awareness, as he whispered, “ _Welcome home_ ,” to you in that unsettlingly fake gentle voice. He would be waiting for you wherever you went, even when your mind wasn’t on him, you would still have some sort of awareness that he _could_ be closeby, patient as he waited. He would find the perfect moment to strike again and tear your life back to shreds. 

Spencer found you, just like you knew he would, and wrapped his arms around you. You would never be able to escape him, you realized as your husband hugged you tightly to him. He ignored the blood soaking his clothes from your wounds, as he murmured in your ear that you were safe now, that he wouldn’t let you be hurt again. 

He would find you again, came the realization with utter dread curdling your happiness of seeing Spencer again. You could run-- and oh, you would, you’d run as far as your legs could carry-- but you knew he would always find you again, someday. 

“ _Welcome home,_ ” he’d say, and you would scream, scream, _scream_ \--   
  


* * *

When your eyes opened, you expected to be awake. There was moonlight that fell across your bed from the window, softly glowing light that spilled across your feet wrapped underneath your blankets. You groaned as you turned over and buried your face into your pillow, attempted to try to block out the horrible dreams that had plagued you. Spencer still hadn’t returned home; you could tell by the quiet that coated your house. You slowly put your hands down upon the mattress and pushed yourself into a seated position. It helped to ease your fears, when you pulled your legs up and hugged them to your chest.

You attempted to settle your raging heartbeat and frantic breaths. It had been a dream. Your mind had filled in the blanks for Spencer arriving. You couldn’t remember that on your own, because before they had showed up you’d already forgotten yourself. The memories you had been handed manually from others had already painted themselves across the horror that was your abduction. 

He had been right, however. All you had ever wanted was to be loved. You remembered how he’d whispered that to you in your dream, how he had looked you straight in the eye while he uttered the words, and how you had felt the trueness of that phrase. You remembered a little more now, about after your mother died, how your father had ignored you. You reminded him too much of your mother; he couldn’t handle it. He hadn’t touched her camera for a long time. He chose to turn his gaze away from you most nights, pretend that you had never existed, that he was alone in the house with only ghosts to keep him company. 

You had tried talking to him, for awhile, before you had given up. He had pulled too far into himself. He would disappear into his den once he returned home from work, and he would lock the door so you couldn’t follow him. If you ever tried to speak when he was in the kitchen, he would look at you with a blank expression, eyes devoid of any emotion. You had finally left him alone completely after that and, after you had sucked it up, decided to keep moving forward even if you no longer had support from either of your parents. 

It had been like you were orphaned, had lost both of your parents at one fell swoop. 

You glanced over at the clock to see it had barely turned a little past four in the morning. Spencer would probably be away all night and most of the day. What would you do now? There wasn’t much you could do. No hobbies had returned to you, and idleness seemed like your only option. You had to get out of this house. If you stayed here the whole time your mind would go stir crazy. 

You pushed yourself out of bed and signed a little as your feet touched the freezing floor. You padded your way toward the hall and went straight towards the den, to your desk, so you could open the second door that had all those recordings. What were they? Why were they here? 

There was a sound from behind you. It jerked you out of your thoughts and you whirled around to look for the source of the noise. You stared at the hallway door, which was left partially ajar from your entrance, as you strained your ears to try to hear the sound again. It had sounded like-- like a footstep, like someone had started to walk slowly down the hallway toward you. There was no way for that to be the case, though! You just had to be imagining things. Spencer had the best system installed for security, because he had wanted you both to be safe. He wouldn’t have left it off; he would have made sure it was always on at all times. You were one hundred percent sure of it. 

Just to be safe-- because surely it would chip away at you if you didn’t investigate-- you walked slowly toward the doorway so you could peek down the hall. As you opened the door you heard the whisper of fabric moving against itself from right around the corner of the door, and it made your heart stall in dread. You forced yourself to look, to make sure nothing was really there, that it was all in your imagination. 

It had to be in your own wildly overacting imagination-- 

The world went a little grey for a moment. Suddenly you were no longer in your house anymore, not even in your own skin. It was as if you were having an out of body experience. You stood in the doorway of a different house and looked into a totally different room. You could see your own body crumpled in the corner. Something was familiar about this room, something spoke to you to tell you that you had truly been here before. It was more memory than a work of fanciful imagination. It wasn’t even just a memory from when you’d been kidnapped, either, you had _been here_ even before _that_ \-- 

This memory was clearly from when you were abducted and tortured, but even still something pressed at your mind that you had been here _before_. Not from just when you’d been forced into the horror that was your abduction. There was another time you’d been here. Where were you? 

The memory faded around you as the memory of you raised your head and looked in the direction you stood, eyes hollow and glassy. You tore your eyes from the sight and closed them, started to tell yourself this wasn’t _real_ , it was a memory. None of this was real. It was done. It was over with. It was just a memory now, and memories couldn’t hurt you physically. You would never be there again. Ever. 

“ _Welcome home,_ ” said the phantom whisper and, as you cried out in shock, you snapped your eyes open to find yourself back in the doorway of the den. The hallway was empty. Your heart beat a frantic tempo in your chest and your breathing panted out of you. You cried out softly and staggered back, as you realized there was _nothing there_ , no one crouched just out of sight. It had all been in your head. 

“Get out,” you whispered raggedly as your hands came up to twine in your hair, a sob ripping itself from your throat. “Leave me alone. Get out of my _head_.” 

Your legs crumpled and you fell upon the floor, another sob leaving you. You wrapped your arms around your legs and leaned so your forehead was on the floor. The coolness soothed your overheated skin. You wanted the memories to stop. All you wanted to remember was Spencer, the happier moments in your life. You didn’t ache for anything else like you did for that. You had no need within you to recall the horrible along with the good. The world was cruel if it had these sorts of catches. 

That had never been how your life worked, however. Your life had never been _fair_. 

It took several long, grueling moments before you managed to get yourself back under some semblance of control. When you finally looked blearily at the clock in the den, you realized it was now almost five in the morning. Almost an entire hour had flew by without your realization. Spencer hadn’t called, either, though you could easily chalk that up to him believing you to be asleep. He hadn’t returned home, but then again, that could also be because of his job. Perhaps they had found some sort of lead. You shot into a seated position and stared towards the window where the faint moon was leaking into the den. 

Soon, you would have to find something to occupy your day. The sun would rise and then the day would start anew. You refused to lay about the house all day. You had to keep yourself distracted with mundane tasks, the routine of a _life_. You sighed and then forced yourself from the floor. 

Torn from your thoughts by a loud knock toward the front door, your heart leaped into your throat. It was soon followed by a few short buzzes from the doorbell next, which only caused your mind to race a million miles a second. Who could possibly be coming by at this time in the morning!? The sun hadn’t even started to rise! 

You scrambled for your bedroom so you could throw on something that resembled an outfit for the day. You stumbled down the hall and hurried toward the front door. Was it Spencer!? Maybe he had forgotten his keys or something, so now he needed you to let him in. But then why hadn’t he called your phone? Why scare you by ringing the bell!? 

“ (Y/N),” someone tried to call through the door. It was faint, but if you focused your ears you could tell it was female. You slowely peeked through the peephole to see a young woman, long black hair and pale brown eyes. She struck a chord in you, one that made you furrow your brows as you reached for the doorknob. You paused a moment as an idea came to you and you placed the security chain first, so at least no one could force their way easily inside. You opened the door. 

“Oh,” the girl said and a smile broke across her face. The corner of her eyes crinkled from it, just as you knew they would-- your memories might be gone, but you _knew her_ , somehow-- and she sighed in relief. “There you are!” She tilted her head a bit and wrung her hands around the strap of her purse. “Spencer called me and told me you were all alone. He’d been worried about you. He hadn’t wanted to call your phone and possibly wake you, but… well, I’m your best friend, and _I_ knew you wouldn’t be asleep.” 

You stared at her through the small gap of the door, studying her features and wracking your brain. Your best friend…? She blinked at you and bit her lower lip. “Oh,” she repeated and sounded almost hurt. “You don’t… you don’t remember me, do you?” Sadness creeped into her eyes and reflected itself in her words. 

“No,” you told her and felt a pang in your chest as you looked away. You slowly dragged them back to her after a moment of silence. “Who _are_ you?” Spencer obviously trusted her, if he had called her to ask her to check in on you today. 

“I’m Tonya,” she introduced with a smile and a shrug. She seemed to have knocked the sadness away and now she looked happy again. “I’ve been your best friend since we were ten. We’ve been through _everything_ together, you know? So I told Spencer I’d go over and stay with you so you wouldn’t be alone.” 

You felt a ringing in your ears and you closed your eyes as a memory fluttered into your awareness. It was faint and tremulous, could dissolve around you if you squinted at it too hard. You were thirteen and had asked out a boy to Sadie Hawkins-- you hadn’t even realized you knew what _that_ was until this memory-- but he had turned you down, rudely. After he had walked away and you’d been left heartbroken, suddenly Tonya was there. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders and told you that you didn’t _need_ guy like Mark, because he was a complete asshole. “ _Not our fault he’s too stupid to realize what a good time he’d have with you, (Nickname),” she’d said and the words echoed in your head, eased your worry. _

The memory faded, but there was a small smile on your lips because of it. You looked bashfully at her and she smiled back, relieved to see a little recognition there, possibly. You felt like you were meeting someone for the first time, though clearly you’d known Tonya for _years_. You closed the door for a moment and undid the safety catch, before you reopened it so Tonya could step inside. There was no reason to be suspicious of her. You felt a little better just knowing she was here, actually. She smiled brightly at you as she stepped inside of the house. 

“Come on,” she told you and reached out, to grasp your hand and tug you further into the house. She’d been here before, that much was obvious. She knew the layout and where everything was. “I know just the thing you have to watch!” 

“H-huh?” 

“Those videos in your desk,” she said with a knowing smile. She must have already guessed you’d uncovered them. “You found them, right?” You nodded in reply. “Those are old videos we started doing together when we were sixteen. It’s a video diary. We’d gotten it into our heads to do it one day, I don’t even remember what prompted us-- but they’d been fun to make together! I stopped doing them once I met my husband, but you kept them up and did them until you married Spencer. You’d told me you decided to stop because you didn’t feel like no one was listening to you anymore. You’d finally been heard.” 

You blushed, but smiled a little at the thought. Spencer _was_ very attentive to you. Yeah, you could see that being the case. “So let’s watch them!” She pulled you down the hall toward your study and you blinked at her back. “I’ll help you fill in any of the holes you left out in the videos. Let’s start with the very first one, okay?” 

“Okay,” you murmured hesitantly, but then smiled again because of her energy. 

At least this would get your mind off of your fears for just a little while.


End file.
